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“THE CONQUEROR” 


LOUISE LANIER 




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THE CONQUEROR” 

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BY 


LOUISE LANIER 


Dedicated to 

The Loveliest Lady in the Land 
(Mrs. S.) 


J. A. LaHatte Printing House <4 


1(H South Broad Street, Atlanta 


FT.- 3 

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Copyright 1914 
LOUISE LANIER 
Atlanta, Ga. 


SEP 21 1914 


©CIAS88083 


THE CONQUEROR 


CHAPTER 1. 

The city of was in some excitement. 

The entire front pages of the leading daily papers 
were covered with startling accounts of the arrival in 
their midst of the noted criminal, Schaft. Each 
paper contained a life-sized portrait of the notorious 
crook, reproducing a countenance handsome, bold, dar- 
ing. The photograph showed a black moustache 
which Schaft was known always to wear and the 
detailed accounts of him called attention to the fact 
that he always wore a solitaire of brilliant luster on 
the little finger of his left hand. There were columns 
of descriptions of his life and the crimes he had com- 
mitted. He was accredited with every known evil 
and the very name Schaft struck terror to every 
woman’s heart who had read or heard of him, for they 
knew of his reputation for heartlessness. 

But with all his crimes and daring, Schaft had in 
some way escaped capture and had baffled the police 
in New York city and many other large towns in the 
East and West for some time past, although the 
tempting reward of $10,000 offered by the government 
for him kept the police and detective forces always 
on the alert in whatever vicinity Schaft was thought 
to be. But he had invariably evaded them and it was 
reported that on several occasions, in some make up, 
or disguise, he had boldly joined the police in search 
for himself, without their even suspecting for a mo- 
ment his identity, a situation Schaft was said always 
to enjoy immeasurably. That Schaft was a desperado, 
murderer, thief and general reprobate, there was not 
a shadow of a doubt. He would take a life in a wink 


2 


THE CONQUEROR. 


for his own safety or profit. There was not a com- 
mandment he had not broken and if there were other 
commandments to break, he would doubtless have 
added these to his list of transgressions. 

In consequence of perusing the accounts in the paper 
of the presence in their midst of Schaft, husbands grew 
troubled, their faces wearing a thoughtful expression, 
while they were careful to warn wives and daughters 
of the danger of being out after dusk alone. And the 
mere mention of the name Schaft would make some 
women nervous and hysterical, for it was known that 
he had no regard for the station in life either of a man 
or woman. To the remorseless Schaft a man was a 
man, a woman a woman. 

It was on the first night of his arrival in the city of 

—7 , that Schaft started out for his usual 

night’s stroll. He was prepared for any emergency — 
a pistol in one pocket, a gag and a small vial of chloro- 
form in another. Was he ever without them? He 
had taken in all the principal business streets of the 
city and finally, starting towards the residence por- 
tion, had stopped in an oak grove, which covered sev- 
eral acres, but was unused on account of a litigation 
which was pending in the courts. The spot was thickly 
covered with trees and it was under the shadow of one 
of these that he had taken refuge, as he saw a blue 
coat in the distance and there was no other place of 
hiding for him just then. 

That Miss Helen Grant had gone on this same 
evening to be with her friend, Miss Katherine Fielding, 
for the night, was no unusual occurrence, that is, so 
far as Miss Grant being at Miss Fielding’s house for the 
night, was concerned, for it had been a custom of 
hers, for years, to be with her friend, Miss Fielding, 
once each week for the night, but by chance, it hap- 
pened that Miss Kate was to be away for the first part 
of. the evening attending a theatre party, thus leaving 
Miss Grant alone for the time being, with Kate’s 
mother, Mrs. Fielding, until Kate should return at a 
later hour. By loyal and constant friendship Helen 
and Kate had abandoned all formalities toward each 
other, and there was a mutual understanding that en- 
gagements wei e not to be interfered with because of 


THE CONQUEROR. 


3 


the presence in the home of either, for it was Kate’s 
custom to be with Helen for the night once each week 
also. So, in Kate’s absence this evening, Helen was 
turned over to her mother, Mrs. Fielding, to be tempo- 
rarily entertained, and the two spent the evening in 
conversation, discussing for the most part the work 
being carried on in the settlement, in which Mrs. 
Fielding was especially interested for Miss Grant’s 
sake, if for no other reason. 

Miss Grant was well known in the city in both social 
and religious circles. Her father had been a man of 
some wealth and a banker, and at his death had left 
his wife and two daughters a fortune each, making 
them independently wealthy, and that Miss Grant, who 
could have reigned as a belle socially, had she chosen, 
she being a very beautiful and charming young woman, 
had abandoned society almost altogether for the charity 
work in which she had become so much interested, had 
been somewhat of a surprise to her almost numberless 
friends. However, after her debut and attending a 
few dances and parties, she suddenly began to decline 
the majority of invitations to any social functions 
whatever, and while she did not denounce these amuse- 
ments in any way, she no longer seemed to care for any- 
thing in life of any consequence but the charity work 
to which she was giving her life as a sacrifice, still 
holding her friendships dear, however, for no one felt a 
truer, deeper meaning of the word friendship than she. 

Miss Grant had been in all the poorer localities of the 
city and here her face was familiar to all. She super- 
vised the settlement work and free kindergartens, and 
besides this, found time to devote to her beloved young 
ladies in the Sunday School of one of the leading 
churches in the city. This was designed for the good 
and inspiration of working girls principally, but it was 
said that in their eagerness to listen to Miss Grant’s 
talks to girls, many young ladies from the wealthiest 
and most representative families of the city came every 
Sabbath morning almost without fail and that the at- 
tendance was so large that there were often more 
present than the room assigned Miss Grant could 
( 2 ) 


4 


THE CONQUEROR. 


accommodate. Miss Grant was loved and respected by 
every one who knew her well in the city, but among the 
unfortunate classes she was almost worshipped, she 
had done so much good among them and her gentle 
manner had endeared her to hundreds of hearts in the 
poorer communities. Everybody knew “Miss Helen,” 
as she was called, by sight and any body would have 
fought for her, had occasion called for such a demon- 
stration of their esteem. In the poverty-stricken dis- 
tricts she had helped them in a practical way, giving 
them money and when no other assistance could be 
had, going herself to the sick to administer to the com- 
fort, helping in many ways and doing many things, 
that would otherwise have been left undone. 

It is no wonder then, that these unfortunates whom 
Miss Grant saw almost daily considered her a saint. 
Their very thoughts of her were gentle and her visits 
looked forward to always with eager anticipation. It was 
while Helen was discussing this work so dear to her 
heart with her friend, Mrs. Fielding, there was a 
ring at the telephone, and Helen answered the call, at 
the suggestion of Mrs. Fielding, who was suffering with 
a sprained ankle and unable to walk any distance unas- 
sisted. It was the voice of Helen’s little sister, Rose 
Mary, whom Miss Grant heard over the phone, convey- 
ing the message that her mother, Mrs. Grant, had been 
taken suddenly ill and that she must come home to her. 

Helen waited to hear no more. She must go, of 
course, at once, but here was a dilemma. There was 
no one to accompany her home, for while in a city for 
a woman to go out alone at night is regarded as con- 
ventional and safe, still it is not always without its 
dangers and especially with a Schaft supposed to be in 
town. The hour was late and the friends in the 
neighborhood must have retired, for lights were out 
and on account of the lame foot, it was out of the ques- 
tion for Mrs. Fielding to go for any distance with her 
friend. Undaunted by circumstances, however, Miss 
Grant started out alone, assuring Mrs. Fielding that 
she was unafraid, as there could be no danger. There 
were a good many people still on the streets, as she 


THE CONQUEROR. 


5 


could see from the window, and there would be no 
harm. At any risk she must get to her mother, for 
Helen was aware of the fact that Mrs. Grant was sub- 
ject to attacks of heart trouble, although nothing as 
yet really serious, but there was no telling this time 
what the danger might be. 

And so, at the door of the Fielding residence Helen 
bade Mrs. Fielding good-night and hurried away in the 
direction of her home. The streets were well lighted, 
and she felt no anxiety about her own safety, her only 
thought being of her mother and her condition. Helen 
found herself almost running that she might get to her 
the sooner and in her eagerness to reach home earlier, 
it occurred to her that she might go through a large oak 
grove near her home, which would shorten the distance 
about two squares. It was rather dark, it was true, 
among the trees, but it would save time and besides 
there could be no possible harm, Helen believed. Never- 
theless she shuddered as she thought of the accounts in 
the paper that day of the presence of Schaft, the noted 
desperado. It was a very unpleasant sensation, but 
lasted only for a moment and was almost forgotten as 
her thoughts returned again to her mother, until as she 
was near the center of the grove and out of calling dis- 
tance for any assistance should she need any, a shadow 
appeared in front of one of the trees and looking up 
she pereceived the figure of a man standing under one 
of them alone. Her heart began beating madly as she 
took in the situation. She was at his mercy if he 
chose, she realized. If a mirror could have reflected 
her face then, it would have shown it without color, for 
Miss Grant had grown suddenly very white and her 
limbs were trembling with the fright that had been 
given her, but she walked on and as she came nearer, 
the man stepped forward and offered her his arm. 

“May I show you through this forest?” he said, gent- 
ly, with a light laugh in reference to the word “forest.” 

Instantly Helen recovered her composure. The soft 
voice of the stranger, so gentle and reassuring had told 
that she need have no further cause for uneasiness and 
she slipped her hand through his arm as confidingly as 
if he had been a brother or a life-time friend. 


6 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“Granard is my name,” the stranger continued, as 
they started through the grove towards the street. 

“A relation of Mr. Harris Granard, now of New York, 
but formerly of our city, I presume. Thank God,” she 
breathed fervently, and in somewhat excited tones, 
without awaiting a reply. “I'll admit that I was 
frightened. I was just reading in the papers today 
where Schaft, the crook, is at large in town, and I 
confess I was nervous when you came up, for I was 
thinking of him then. I am grateful to you for your 
kindness in offering to convey me through this ‘forest,* 
as you term it — it looks a wilderness to me tonight — 
and if you will be so kind as to go with me to my home, 
which is only a few squares away, I shall certainly ap- 
preciate it, for after the fright I have just had, I had 
rather not go alone. My mother is ill, and I am hurry- 
ing to her.” 

“Certainly,” the stranger answered courteously. “It 
is always a pleasure to render any service to a lady in 
my power.” 

By this time they had passed through the grove and 
had come to the corner where a street light was burn- 
ing. Miss Grant perceived that the stranger was very 
handsome and wore a black moustache, and on the little 
finger of his left hand a diamond sparkled. But she 
thought nothing of this circumstance. Her thoughts 
had turned again to her mother, as they hurried on in 
the direction of her home. However, she listened 
with interest to her escort's conversation, and there 
was something in his tones that spoke of refinement 
and culture above the ordinary man, and as soon as 
she learned that he was a stranger in the city, but 
would be there for some time perhaps, she became more 
interested than ever. Here would be a new member 
(and an acquisition certainly, she thought) for the 
Young Men's Class in the beloved Sunday School, 
where she was a teacher. They were especially inter- 
ested in strangers, and a hearty welcome was extended 
one. 

“Then, if you are to be here for some time, you must 
come out next Sunday to hear our bishop, who has con- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


7 


sented to give a talk especially to the young men’s 
class. It is to be a special service, and I know you 
will enjoy it, as our bishopp is said to be one of the best 
speakers in this part of the country. So you will 
come, Mr. Granard, I know. You can’t afford to miss 
it. Will you?” 

“I — I don’t know that I can. I may have — er busi- 

ness — that is — I don’t think I can.” 

“Why, Mr. Granard aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” 
she asked in mild tones of reproof and laughing light- 
ly. “I am afraid this tells that you are not in the 
habit of attending church.” 

By this time they had reached her home, a handsome 
edifice on one of the most beautiful thoroughfares in 
the city, in the most select section perhaps, and as she 
gave him her hand in parting for the night, she asked 
that he call to see her the next evening when they might 
discuss the subject more fully, for she was very anxious 
that Granard should attend the services and she had 
not the time then to explain everything concerning the 
class, for she must hurry to her mother who must be 
needing her then. Then, too, when he came they 
would become better acquainted, for she knew that be- 
ing a stranger, it would naturally be more pleasant for 
him to make acquaintances and there had been some- 
thing very appealing to her in his tones when he 
said to her: “I am a stranger here. I don’t know any 
one in the city.” 

Granard had turned to go away, without replying to 
her question and was lifting his hat to say good-night, 
and to express his pleasure at meeting her, although, as 
he said the meeting was so accidental, when Miss Grant 
turned to him in surprise, and said in half -injured 
tones : “Mr. Granard, you refuse my invitation to call ? 
I confess this is a rather unusual experience for me. I 
am not accustomed to having my invitations ignored.” 

She laughed lightly again, but assuming a somewhat 
wounded air, added earnestly as she thought “this may 
be my opportunity to do good — who knows? Seri- 
ously, Mr. Granard, will you call tomorrow evening 
that I may tell you all about the class in detail and will 


8 


THE CONQUEROR. 


you promise to go to our service Sunday ? But I must 
hurry on to mother. And now, good-night. Will 
you come, Mr Granard ?” 

She offered him her hand and her soft fingers rested 
for a moment in the palm of his big one. 

“Yes,” Granard answered impulsively, “I will come, 
Miss Grant tomorrow evening. You may look for me.” 

“Very well. Good-night again, Mr. Granard, and 
thank you for seeing me safely home.” 

She was gone the next moment and the door closed 
behind her. Granard turned away, the soft, musical 
tones of her voice still ringing in his ears, the touch 
of her hand yet on his own. He paused for a moment 
in the darkness at her threshold and his head fell on 
his breast and he leaned heavily forward on the banis- 
ter and groaned. He was moved as he had not been in 
many heartless years. The soft tones of a woman’s 
voice, the touch of her hand can do many wonderful 
things. 

True to his promise, the next evening Granard was 
at Miss Grant’s home at the appointed hour, for he 
was a man of his word and never broke a promise at 
any cost, if possible, let the circumstances be what 
they may, and his failings as multitudinous. On this 
one point he prided himself. And so he would not 
fail Miss Grant. What harm could it be? One 
evening with him could not contaminate her — she 
could not be contaminated, that was plain enough. 
Miss Grant greeted him warmly and ushered him into 
the drawing room, which looked very inviting in its 
elegantly appointed simplicity. There was an air of 
welcome and general hospitality in the very atmosphere 
of the room, and Granard felt comfortable and at home 
from the moment of his entrance until he arose to go. 
Miss Grant regretted that he could not meet her moth- 
er, who was very ill, but she was glad to be able to say, 
improving, and on account of Mrs. Grant’s illness Gra- 
nard made his visit short. 

It was a wonderful visit to him nevertheless. He 
found Miss Grant surpassingly beautiful and to look 
at her face gave him the keenest satisfaction. He 


THE CONQUEROR. 


9 


could not see her features well on the evening before, 
but he had heard her voice and it had been ringing in 
his ears for the last wonderful twenty-four hours. And 
so it was no surprise to him to find her beautiful. It 
seemed the most natural and fitting thing in the world 
that she should be and yet if he had found her homely, 
it would have been no great disappointment to him 
after her extreme kindness and concern for him, which 
had gone so strangely to his heart and which, he as- 
sured himself he would never forget, tho’ he lived to 
be a hundred, and should he never see Miss Grant again. 
She had explained to him the details of the service for 
Sunday, told him where to go, at what time, and she 
would not let him leave without reminding him of his 
promise to attend the service and his assurance that he 
would be there. 

Granard could not forget, try as he would, the prom- 
ise, for he was even anxious then to be present, for it 
would give him the opportunity again of looking at the 
face that had suddenly become to him the most beau- 
tiful in the world. It was the last of the week, but a 
long time would seem to intervene between then and 
the following Sabbath, still Granard could not but be 
amazed at his own audacity in ever consenting to go. 
To church! Of all places on earth! He had been 
everywhere on the face of the earth, including some of 
the most notorious gambling dens in existence, but 
never to church. 

On Sunday morning Miss Grant occupied her usual 
place in the choir, which faced the congregation, and 
she watched attentively all the faces of the people as 
they entered the door, but Granard did not appear. At 
length the services began. He was not coming. He 
had broken his promise. Miss Grant was keenly disap- 
pointed, somehow. She had given him up, and was 
forming in her mind what she would say to him the 
next time they met, in the event they ever did, when 
she looked up again and there was Granard coming 
down the side aisle. He might have felt somewhat ill 
at ease, but he held his head high nevertheless and 
there was not that cowed, haunted expression on his 
face characteristic of most criminals. 


10 


THE CONQUEROR. 


Choosing an end seat, near the rear, he sat down, but 
as it happened, where Miss Grant could see his face 
and he hers. Her eyes turned to him often during 
the sermon and his eyes were not off her face, but he 
did not smile or show any sign of recognition. If 
she could have read his thoughts then, however, she 
would have known that he was thinking of her as 
others thought her, an angel. Her heavenly eyes, 
with the gentle dove-like expression, the regular fea- 
tures and flawless complexion and that expression 
about the mouth which suggested always a smile, al- 
though the features might be in repose — fascinated 
him, and try as he might he could not keep his eyes 
from her face and, for awhile, he was conscious of 
nothing but her presence. 

Suddenly, however, he found himself listening to the 
service and he became interested. But how strange 
he felt. This was certainly a new and novel experi- 
ence for him. To Sunday School ! “If Jacques could 
see me now. I wonder what he would think,” he 
thought, as his mind turned for a moment to his old- 
time companion and friend. 

Jacques, a noted gambler whom he had known for 
years, was acknowledged to be one of the most wicked 
men in the country, although he was recognized as 
being exceptionally intelligent and witty, and, as it 
happened, Granard had seen much of him in his past 
life, and Jacques never failed to interest him, for 
there was always something to be learned from him, if 
in his presence for only a half an hour. Granard found 
himself wondering where Jacques was, when the choir 
began singing, and his thoughts turned back to his 
present surroundings. The song ceased and then he 
heard a prayer for those present, including strangers. 
His heart beat quickly. He was a stranger. The 
prayer was for him, too. Prayed for! Schaft, the 
crook. He could not but smile, touched as he was, 
for he was amused at the absurdity of such a thing 
as a prayer for a criminal. With a sense of the ridic- 
ulous, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling as the invocation 
closed, and smiled again as he thought: “the part of 


THE CONQUEROR. 


11 


the prayer which was for me has stuck right up there 
in the ceiling. I can see it now. It will go no farther. 
There is no mercy for Schaft, the crook.” 

For a moment a feeling of bitterness held him, as he 
thought of many experiences he had gone through with 
in the past. 

“I don't believe in any of their creeds,” he thought. 
‘There is no charity in the world. Haven't I had op- 
portunity enough to find out ?” 

Then his eyes turned again to the face of Miss Grant 
and, as he looked at her and remembered her kindness 
to him, he repented the thought and the bitterness was 
gone. No mercy? Had she not been merciful and 
charitable to him? His eyes did not leave her face 
again, but he heard every word the bishop was saying, 
notwithstanding. His views were very liberal, his 
text being, “I was a stranger and ye took me in,” and 
oddly enough the discourse seemed strangely fitted for 
the occasion. He said it was circumstances and not the 
heart that often makes a man bad, and added in con- 
clusion : “I have hopes for a Schaft even, if fates were 
kind enough.” 

He said also that a man could not get too low to be 
redeemed if only he chose to do right. That the bad 
were half good and if the good were not half bad, the 
best of them had their failings. That there is a 
Father who always understands and is willing to be a 
friend. 

Granard listened with intent interest. He heard the 
story of the Christ Child for the first} time in his life, 
intelligently. He remembered his mother telling it 
to him when he was a small boy, (his mother having 
died when he was only nine years of age), but it had 
seemed something like and scarcely more than a fairy 
tale to him then. He was too young to realize its true 
meaning. Granard was impressed as he had never 
been before. 

“Perhaps this accounts for so little charity and so 
much heartlessness,” he thought. “A great many 
people are like myself, they have never heard. Why, 
I know hundreds of fellows who are good at heart, but 
( 3 ) 


12 


THE CONQUEROR. 


are leading the lives of demons, but I’ll wager they 
never saw the inside of a church and have no idea 
what goes on in one. They are not aware of the fact 
that they are welcome. But this seems as much my 
property as my neighbor next me and no one seems 
inclined to bite. I am beginning to feel quite at home 
here. I wonder, though, if they should know who I 
am, what would occur? A panic, I suppose. Well, 
I’m not going to tell them right now, at any rate, and 
we’ll avoid the panic.” 

The bishop’s discourse was short, but full of logic 
and eloquence. He was a very forceful speaker and 
of magnetic personality. He was not handsome exact- 
ly, but of powerful physique and with regular, well set 
features. He was the embodiment of mental and phys- 
ical strength, commanding in appearance, but gentle 
withal, with a nature as sympathetic as a woman’s. 
That he had humanity at heart above all things, there 
was no doubting, as an evidence of which he had given 
his life to the cause. 

At the conclusion of the service Granard hurried out, 
but he did not escape Miss Grant, for she met him at 
the entrance door. She was so pleased at his fulfilling 
his promise in coming that she was not going to let 
him get away without expressing her pleasure and 
appreciation at seeing him there, and this might influ- 
ence him to come again. Miss Grant never let an 
opportunity pass to encourage her young friends to 
make the best of their lives, and she realized what an 
influence she held over the young people generally. 
She called Granard aside and welcomed him warmly, 
asking him how he enjoyed the services, and if he did 
not think the bishop an impressive speaker. Miss 
Grant was convinced from Granard’s reply that he was 
impressed and she was secretly pleased, for Granard 
had the appearance of a man fastidious not only in his 
dress, which was perfect, but in other things in life as 
well, and Miss Grant guessed that an ordinary speaker 
probably would not have appealed to him. But the 
bishop’s eloquence could not but appeal to any one. 

“I want you to meet Bishop Northern. He will be 


THE CONQUEROR. 


13 


here presently. We will wait here for him,” Miss 
Grant suggested. 

Granard offered no objections, realizing how useless 
it would be, for he had no excuse to offer which would 
not seem absurd, and it was while they were waiting 
for the bishop to join them that Miss Grant begged 
that he promise her to attend the service again on the 
following Sunday as he had done that day. “The 
bishop is preaching a series of sermons, and I want 
you to hear them all, and I must tell you what to read 
before the next service. It will be more interesting 
for you. Have you your Bible with you ?” 

“Er — no,” Granard stammered, in slight confusion.” 

“You haven't? Most of our young men bring a small 
volume in their pockets, and I thought possibly you 
had one, but you may take mine and be sure to read 
this before next Sunday, as it will keep you in connec- 
tion with his discourse of today and next Sabbath. It 
will be more interesting to know what his text will be,” 
and Miss Grant designating the chapter the bishop had 
chosen for a text, handed her Bible over to him. It 
was a small, but handsomely-bound volume in Morocco 
and gilt-edged, being a gift from her father, and this 
was the first time it had ever been loaned. 

It was here that the bishop joined them. 

“Bishop Northern, this is Mr. Granard. He is a 
stranger here and came out to hear your sermon this 
morning. I want you both to know each other,” Miss 
Grant said, sweetly. 

Granard acknowledged the introduction in an easy, 
graceful manner, that spoke markedly of both good 
breeding and refinement. 

“A stranger? How long do you intend staying in 
our city Mr. Granard ?” the bishop asked, in kindly in- 
terest. 

“I am not quite sure, Bishop Northern,” Granard 
answered, unhesitatingly. “I may be here quite a 
while. It all depends on the police,” he thought. 

“And locate here ? That would be nice both for your- 
self and our city, for we have the best town in America, 
we think, and we are always glad to welcome strangers 


14 


THE CONQUEROR. 


in our midst and if you are thinking of locating here, 
Mr. Granard, I would be glad to show you our city. I 
am not a real estate agent at all, but I must say I 
have the interest of my town at heart, and have 
enough ambition for it to try to help increase its popula- 
tion with good citizens by doing all in my power for it, 
and I am sure when you see some of the tempting 
values we have in property, that if you are in doubts 
about locating anywhere, you will decide at once to stay 
with us. I am going out driving this afternoon, can't 
you go with me?” 

The bishop was always kind to strangers, and never 
let an opportunity pass to show a kindly interest in all 
the people who came in their midst unknown, with 
whom he was thrown in contact, but on this occasion 
he was struck with Granard's manner and conversation 
and he had a desire to cultivate his acquaintance. The 
bishop usually knew whom he fancied at first sight. It 
might have been magnetism or personality — something 
drew Granard to the bishop irresistably. Miss Grant 
smiled with pleasure at Bishop Northern's suggestion 
for the outing. 

“He always does the right thing at the right time,” 
she thought, but Granard had made no reply to the 
suggestion. He could not say he had a business en- 
gagement as an excuse, for it was Sunday, nor could 
he even plead an appointment with a friend. Had he 
not told Miss Grant that he was a complete stranger in 
the city? What should he do? or say? He was 
hesitating when Miss Grant came to the rescue. 

“He is reluctant, because he is afraid he will con- 
sume the bishop's time and put him to some trouble. 
That is considerate. I appreciate his position, but he 
must go. He must not miss this opportunity. Neith- 
er of them must, for if the Bishop can have any influ- 
ence over him, it will be an opportunity of doing good. 
Mr. Granard may be indifferent to spiritual things, 
who knows? But I hardly think so,” she thought. 

“Mr. Granard will go, of course, bishop. He has no 
earthly excuse. Now, won't you, Mr. Granard?” 

There was an appealing expression in her blue eyes 


THE CONQUEROR. 


15 


not to refuse, with a suggestion of “for my sake” in 
them too, and where was the man under the sun who 
could have declined under such circumstances ? 

Granard said he would go, and it was arranged that 
the bishop call for him at his hotel at four o'clock in 
the afternoon. 

“Mr. Granard is one of| the most prepossessing men 
I have talked to in some time. Where did you meet 
him, Miss Helen?” Bishop Northern asked. 

Miss Grant told the bishop the circumstances of 
their meeting. 

“Why that sounds really romantic,” the bishop said, 
laughingly. “I hope this will not end in a romance, 
that is, if Mr. Granard is not going to stay with us, 
for he would take you away from us in the event that 
he does not stay and that would be a sad loss to us.” 

“Thank you, bishop,” Miss Grant answered, smiling- 
ly. “It is kind of you to have these misgivings in my 
behalf, in saying that you would not like to give me 
up and in intimating that I would be missed, but I 
think you need have no fears — I am immune, you 
know,” she laughed. “I have met fascinating men 
before, and I think I am not very susceptible.” 

“No, indeed, Miss Helen. If you had been, I am 
sure long ago you would have a “Mrs.” prefixed to your 
name, instead of “Miss,” and if you were to accept all 
your admirers, we would have to ship you off to Utah.” 

“There, now you're being kind again bishop, and 
you just want to console me in the event that I am an 
old maid. It is very gallant of you to say such nice 
things and you are very comforting. Mrs. Northern 
must find you a great consolation in all her ups and 
downs in life. She is coming now, and I shall ask her 
if you are always in such a mood. If she says 'yes,' 
then I shall begin to perceive that I have missed 
something in my life not to have the consolation of 
some one always besides mother. Of course, I always 
have her, but two would not be too many to have to 
console one in this world of sorrow, do you think so, 
bishop?” 

“Not at all. But you must not speak of this world 


16 


THE CONQUEROR. 


as ‘a world of sorrow/ Miss Helen. It is so incongru- 
ous from you with you always smiling. I thought 
that in this case, too, you were immune, and I always 
think of you as, the one person exempt, and it is such 
a relief to me even to think of you who always seem 
so happy.” 

“I am always very happy, only when I think of 
father, bishop. Then I am afraid I became almost 
rebellious at moments at his having been taken from 
us so suddenly.” 

Mrs. Northern, a lovely little woman of about thirty- 
five, the bishop’s wife, had just joined them and she 
took Miss Grant’s hand within her own at the mention 
of her recent sorrow, and stroked it sympathetically. 
A touching silence followed, broken at last by the ap- 
pearance of the bishop’s little son, who came running 
up to beg a kiss of Miss Helen, not having seen her 
before that morning. To express his delight at seeing 
her, he threw his arms about her neck when she 
stooped to kiss him, and gave her a hearty hug and 
kiss in return. Everybody loved Miss Helen, it 
seemed. Here Thomas, the coachman, appeared with 
the carriage, and the friends parted for the day. 

On reaching the hotel at which he was staying, 
Granard dined and then retired to the seclusion of his 
own room. He drew the Bible Miss Helen had loaned 
him from his pocket, and opening it at the place she 
had designated, began to read. It was the first Bible 
he had had in his hands since a lad, and for hours he 
poured over the different stories it contained. He 
read the story of the life and death of Christ, and with 
more interest and deeper feeling than one would ever 
have believed or imagined possible, known to the world 
as he was. At times he was tempted to lay the book 
aside, overwhelmed almost as he would be at the 
thought of his unworthiness to even touch it, but a 
pair of blue eyes would arise before his mental vision 
to give him assurance and, under this spell and inspira- 
tion, he would become more confident and read on, and 
surely he had a right to read this wonderful story, un- 
worthy though he might be. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


17 


The striking of the clock on the mantel reminded 
him that it was three o’clock, and Granard arose and 
began re-arranging his toilet. He was always very 
prompt at filling engagements and he gave himself 
some time for a walk before going to the hotel at 
which he had agreed to meet the bishop. He had been 
very careful not to have the bishop come to the hotel 
where he was staying, thinking it wise to take the 
precaution. 

It was while he was on his way to the hotel that 
he was accosted by a man, evidently a stranger, who 
was inquiring his way about the city. Granard gave 
him what information he could and this ended in a 
friendly chat for a few moments, merely about the 
virtues of the climate and water and topics of interest 
in general, and when the two had parted and passed on, 
the stranger thought: “Such courtesy. Isn’t it too 
bad that every one can’t be as genial and as accom- 
modating as that? He was as kind as if he had been 
an old acquaintance, and yet I never saw him before 
and probably never will again.” 

It was while the stranger was soliloquizing that he 
came face to face with an officer of the law in blue coat 
and brass buttons, who was very much flushed from 
excitement and somewhat out of breath from his hasty 
walk in that direction. 

“Where is the man you were just talking to?” he 
asked breathlessly. “We want that man. He is a 
noted criminal. Where is he ? Why didn’t you catch 
him ?” 

The stranger looked amazed and instinctively both 
he and the officer gazed all ’round to see where Gra- 
nard could be, but he was out of sight. He had 
seen the officer approaching, and had said adieu to his 
new friend just in time to reach safely a street corner, 
where he turned, and was soon lost in the crowd which 
thronged the streets. It was with somewhat of re- 
lief that the stranger saw that Granard was out of 
sight, for, like the bishop, he had felt irresistably 
drawn to him, for some reason. 

“I can’t believe he is a criminal,” the man said, 
thoughtfully, as he turned to the officer again to ad- 
dress him. 


18 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“Well, whether you believe it or not, there’s a $10,000 
reward from the government for him, and our govern- 
or has just added an extra thousand today. Now, do 
you believe it?” 

The stranger was still incredulous, however, he was 
wise enough to say nothing for fear of being a suspect 
or accused of complicity or conspiracy, but the intelli- 
gence did not lessen his opinion of this new acquaint- 
ance, notwithstanding, and he passed on, convinced 
that the officer had made an error and was on track of 
the wrong man. 

It was about fifteen minutes until the appointed 
hour, that Granard arrived at the hotel where he was 
to meet Bishop Northern. He sat down in the lobby 
and began reading a page of the daily paper, which 
was lying near, and became deeply interested in its 
account of the appearance in the city of “Schaft, the 
noted crook and criminal,” and he was attracted by the 
head lines: $1,000 offered by the Governor of the 
state for his capture, in addition to the $10,000 reward 
from the government,” but he had read only a few 
moments when suddenly an uneasy feeling took pos- 
session of him, and, looking up from the paper, he per- 
ceived that he was being closely scrutinized by a man 
across the room. When Granard looked up and met 
his glance, the man stepped forward, but it was just 
here that the bishop arrived, and seeing that Granard 
had not perceived that he was there, he touched him 
lightly on the shoulder. Granard arose with easy, 
careless grace and with an air of composure and indif- 
ference, sauntered out by the bishop’s side to the car- 
riage waiting at the door. 

If the man, who was a detective and a clever one, 
had had any doubts as to the identity of the man he had 
singled out for Schaft, he was convinced now of his 
error. Of course, Bishop Northern would not be on 
friendly terms with a criminal and, assured of his mis- 
take, with a sigh of disappointment, the detective 
turned away and left the hotel, in somewhat of disgust 
at his own mistake. 

“Have you decided how long you will be in the city,” 
Bishop Northern asked, as soon as they were seated in 


THE CONQUEROR. 


19 


the carriage, and were being driven away in the 
direction of the tempting “real estate” on one of the 
principal avenues of the city. 

“I can't say yet, Bishop Northern. I may be here 
for some time, but I am such a bird of passage, I 
hardly know myself one day, where I will be the next,” 
and then the conversation drifted to other matters of 
interest, and Granard finally referred to the bishop’s 
sermon of that morning. 

“What did you mean when you said there is hope for 
a Schaft, Bishop ? Do you really think it possible that 
he could be redeemed ?” 

“My dear man,” Bishop Northern answered, laying 
his hand affectionately on Granard's knee, “haven’t 
you ever felt discouraged?” 

Grandard admitted that he had. 

“Well, that is the immediate cause of a great deal 
of sin, particularly with criminals and to that is what I 
really had reference. They meet with continued 
disappointments and after overcoming one after the 
other, begin to think that fate, heaven and earth are 
against them, and then comes the critical moment 
when they become desperate and, so, it is as I said, it is 
circumstances that often make men demons — not the 
heart, and The bad are half good,' he quoted again. 
‘Why, I read only yesterday of a man who had robbed 
a bank and the very next day rescued a child from a 
burning building, at the risk of his own life, although 
he had never seen the child before. And there are 
many instances I could cite* to prove my theory. All 
good men are not necessarily pious, Though I think 
piety very essential for the most of us, for the influ- 
ence it exerts, if nothing else. It was the influence 
of a pious man that changed my career in life. I am 
afraid I was on the downward road, until he came into 
my life, and now, I thank God every day for his 
piety. It is wonderful what one man's influence can 
do for another man.” 

“Yes,” Granard answered, thoughtfully, “and — don't 
you — er think a good woman has a great deal of influ- 
ence, too, and could influence a man for good?” he 
asked, slowly, while a pair of blue eyes came suddenly 

(4) 


20 


THE CONQUEROR. 


up before his vision as he weighed the question deeply 
in his mind. 

“Do I? I think the salvation of the world depends 
principally on good women and especially on beautiful 
women,” the bishop answered promptly. “If all the 
beautiful women could know the responsibility that 
rests on their shoulders, unless they made the 
proper use of the gift, as I consider it, they would 
pray to have their charms taken away, and to be dis- 
figured for life. Take my wife, for instance. I 
consider her a beautiful woman, but if she were to 
prove * unfaithful to me, I don’t know how it would 
affect me, for I am quite human, you know, even 
though they call me bishop. But I think I need have 
no fears, for our marriage has been recorded in Heav- 
en, but I merely cite this as an instance. And take Miss 
Grant. I don’t beleive there’s a man living who would 
not be influenced by contact with her. She could 
have married dozens of times that I know of, although 
she is no flirt, but every one of these men, and indeed 
all the young men who have become interested in her 
and her work, are leading moral lives, so far as I know. 
It is a great disappointment to some of them that she 
does not seem to care particularly for them and show 
them a preference.” 

Granard thought he had found the definition of the 
word “disappointment” in a refusal for Miss Grant’s 
hand in marriage, but he felt a secret pleasure in the 
fact that she was not married, although it could not 
possibly affect his life, for he would probably be gone 
tomorrow and never see her again, and if he should, 
was he worthy such thoughts, or would she deign to 
be even friends, if she knew? His brain was in a 
whirl as these thoughts surged through his mind, and 
he was so absorbed in the reverie that he had almost 
forgotten the presence of Bishop Northern until he 
spoke again. 

The conversation drifted to other topics, and were 
of a more personal nature now, the bishop telling him, 
without reserve of many incidents of his own life, not 
omitting many hardships and adversities to which he 
had at one time been subjected. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


21 


“You surprise me, bishop. I imagined you had 
never known sin or adversity/’ 

“Your imagination carries you too far then, friend, 
for I have sinned and had my share of adversity.” 

Then the bishop grew quite confidential, relating 
many experiences of the obstacles he had overcome in 
life, and as Granard listened to the tones of this 
charming man’s voice, he was fascinated, but not more 
so than the bishop, who found his companion not only 
not in the least disappointing in regard to the impres- 
sion he had made on him in the morning, but discov- 
ered, to his pleasure, that he improved on acquaintance, 
and he listened with interest to his descriptions of many 
wonderful sights he had seen in his travels. He was 
an intelligent thinker and talker, and in the course of 
conversation, touched on religion and beliefs. He had 
read something of all of them, but his opinion of all of 
them was: “I don’t believe in any of them. They 
are all show,” but in the presence of this wonderful 
man, the bishop and thoughts of Miss Grant, his 
opinion was changed. He had begun already to 
think differently. 

The bishop listened with intense interest to Gra- 
nard’s conversation and considered that he had been 
enlightened on many new subjects that were interest- 
ing to him. And so they rode on, this criminal and 
this consecrated man of God, side by side, as man and 
man. 

It was on their return home that the bishop sug- 
gested that he stop with him at the governor’s mansion 
to meet his friend, the governor. “I promised to stop 
in for a few moments, and I am anxious for both of 
you to know each other. He is a man whose acquaint- 
ance you would like to cultivate, for the man he is, 
even if he were not governor. He is a saint,” the 
bishop said, in almost reverent tones. 

As the carriage had stopped in front of the Execu- 
tive Mansion by this time, Granard could not refuse to 
accompany the bishop, and so he walked with him up 
the path to the entrance door of the governor’s home. 
They were ushered in the drawing room, where the 
Executive joined them immediately. 


22 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“I had just about given you out, bishop,” Governor 
Morgan said after he had been formally presented to 
Granard as a friend of the bishop’s, as he understood, 
and the Governor had expressed his pleasure at making 
his acquaintance, giving him a hearty hand shake. “I 
would have been disappointed if you had failed us this 
afternoon and my wife was just beginning to complain 
that you could forget an engagement. But she had 
just decided that you might be ill and was thinking of 
sending a message inquiring about you.” 

Mrs. Morgan, the Governor’s wife, entered just here, 
sweet and gracious, and smiling a welcome as she went 
with outstretched hands to greet the bishop. After 
the formal meeting, Mrs. Morgan and Granard fell into 
an easy conversation, in which they both became imme- 
diately interested, while the Governor and the Bishop 
conversed in lower tones across the room. 

“What a charming man,” the Governor said, refer- 
ring to Granard. 

“And one of the most intellectual I ever talked to, 
Governor,” Bishop Northern added, enthusiastically. 
“You must know him better. You will be obliged to 
learn something — even you,” to which the Governor 
replied: “You infer that I am a Solomon, friend. I 
have yet to learn what you know, Carlton. My opin- 
ion of you as being a learned man is that you know 
it all. Take that as a compliment bishop. I don’t 
mean a 'know all.’” 

“Thank you, Wayne,” the Bishop answered simply. 
When the two became very confidential they were 
Carlton and Wayne to each other. 

Here, the Bishop looked at his watch and said they 
must leave, or “the wife” would think the horses had 
run away. “She always has me dead when I am late,” 
he said, with a soft laugh, “and I must hurry now or 
I’ll find her walking the floor, or at the telephone, 
ready to call the police station to know if an accident 
has occurred today.” 

Bishop Northern and Governor Morgan said good- 
bye, and Governor Morgan and his wife each extended 
Granard an invitation to return at any time, either 
with the Bishop or alone, in the event that the Bishop 


THE CONQUEROR. 


23 


could not come every time with him. Bishop Northern 
and Granard thanked them and departed. They made 
their way to the carriage and at the Bishop’s orders 
to the coachman, were driven rapidly to the hotel, 
where the Bishop had met Granard earlier in the 
afternoon. Here the carriage stopped and before 
Granard had time to alight, after expressing his 
thanks to his companion for the afternoon’s pleasure, 
the Bishop took his hand within his own and pressed 
it tightly. “I shall remember you among my other 
friends in my prayers tonight,” he said gently. 

Granard was not a weak man, but he felt a strange 
choking sensation about the throat and a mist gath- 
ered in his eyes which the bishop did not fail to observe, 
as he looked up to say good-night, and which he appre- 
ciated and regarded as more eloquent than any words 
his companion could have spoken in reply. The next 
moment the carriage moved away and the Bishop was 
out of sight. Granard stood for a moment on the curb 
in front of the hotel, and then he turned walking rapid- 
ly in the direction of the hotel at which he was staying, 
a popular hostelry or inn, in the suburbs of the city. 
After dining alone in the cafe, he went to his room, 
where he remained for the rest of the evening, and 
again began reading where he had left off in that 
wonderful book Miss Grant had loaned him that morn- 
ing. It was one o’clock in the morning before he laid 
the Bible aside, and by this time he was very much en- 
lightened, for he read with remarkable rapidity and was 
only a few days and nights finishing the New Testa- 
ment. He could appreciate the Bishop’s statement in 
course of conversation that afternoon, that a man who 
is forty years old and hasn’t read his Bible through, 
has led a rather idle life. “It is the duty of every 
living man,” he said, “to have read it through at least 
once, and no man but; a blind man is excusable.” 

Granard was a well educated man, having acquired 
a great deal of his knowledge himself. At fifteen he 
led his classes easily, and at this age spoke Spanish, 
French and German fluently, while English was, later 
on, easily mastered. He was well read, and somewhat 
of a book worm, too, reading all the books he could get 


24 


THE CONQUEROR. 


his hands on. This was the greatest recreation he 
had, he felt, and he had spent fortunes almost in 
books. 

When he had finished the Testament, Granard re- 
turned the book to Miss Grant, but on his way home he 
stopped in at a book store and bought a Bible, deter- 
mined to read what the other book contained. It was 
the buying of that Bible that came so nearly causing 
his capture, and yet it was the purchasing of it that 
saved him. He had been very bold in going a main 
street for it, for a policeman had spotted him and fol- 
lowed him to the store, and he had entered the store 
just as Granard selected the Bible and paid for it. 
The policeman looked at him increduously, but he was 
convinced that he was not Schaft, when he saw him pay 
for it, for Schaft would not be buying a Bible, and so 
he turned and walked slowly and thoughtfully out of 
the store. 

Granard, taking in the situation, could not suppress 
a smile, and he turned and went in an opposite direc- 
tion towards his hotel, taking the precaution this time 
to return home by a back street. And he read the Old, 
as well as the New Testament, with the same interest, 
but every now and then he would stop reading and 
close his eyes to make a mental picture of a pair of 
blue ones, and the sweet, lovely face of a woman — 
the one woman who, perchance, was kindling the fires 
of good in his heart and was awakening his dormant 
soul to a better understanding. Who knows? The 
whole history contained in the book was absorbing to 
him, but there were a few stories that particularly 
appealed to him. 

“Here’s this fellow, Job, who’s had about as much 
trouble as I have, and yet he conquered, it seems,” he 
thought, “and as for this man, Saul, it was cowardly 
of him to suicide. He should have waited for 
events.” 

And there were many other favorites, but the story 
of Ruth and Naomi appealed to him the most pro- 
foundly, for he readily pictured Miss Grant as the 
loyal Ruth. 

“That is a masterpiece,” he thought, as he put the 


THE CONQUEROR. 


25 


volume aside. “The finest story I ever read. And 
to think that it is all true. I am so tired of shams 
and the false. It is good to know of truth having once 
existed, even if it doesn't now." 

But Granard repented the concluding thought imme- 
diately, a pair of blue eyes coming up before his vision 
again. “The good and true does exist," he declared, 
stoutly. “Because some people choose to be vile, it 
doesn't mean that all are. I will never again be 
guilty of such a thought." 


26 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER II. 

The next morning, Governor Morgan was about the 
first person whom Granard encountered on the street. 

“I’m so glad to see you, Granard,” the Governor ex- 
claimed, grasping his hand in a friendly manner. “I 
was wondering where I could find you. I want you 
to come over this evening, but I suppose Bishop North- 
ern has told you.” 

“No, I have not seen him since yesterday,” Granard 
explained. 

“Then, he will see you,” Governor Morgan said. “I 
am rushed, or would stop to explain. But you must 
not fail. This evening, at eight o’clock. I shall count 
on you. I want you to come around with the Bishop, 
and be on time, if you can, for I want your opinion on 
some matters which have puzzled more than one with- 
in the last few weeks, and you may have some ideas to 
offer,” and as the Governor glanced at his watch and 
found that it was even later than he imagined, he hur- 
ried on, leaving Granard in somewhat of doubt as to 
what the Governor meant, but he was not left long 
to wondering, for it was only a few moments later that 
he met the Bishop also. 

“Grand morning, isn’t it?” the Bishop asked, with a 
smile, after he had bidden Granard good morning. 
“I’m glad to see you, Mr. Granard, for I have a mes- 
sage for you from the Governor. He wants us to 
come around this evening.” 

“Yes, I have just seen him,” Granard replied, “and 
he told me he wanted us to come.” 

“0, then that is all, and you must not fail him, Mr. 
Granard. He doesn’t like to have his invitations ig- 
nored, when once accepted.” 

“Certainly not,” Granard answered, and as the ques- 
tion seemed to be settled as to Granard’s accepting the 
invitation, the conversation changed to other things 
pertaining to the topics of the day. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


27 


“But I am taking your time, Bishop,” Granard de- 
clared, after they had stood for some moments on the 
street corner together. 

“Oh, I am not rushed,” Bishop Northern answered. 
“I was on my way to call on a woman who is ill in the 
factory district. I think she needs attention.” 

“Then, don't let me detain you, pray,” Granard an- 
swered, anxiously, and he turned away, that he would 
not keep the Bishop longer. But the Bishop would 
not leave until he had an affirmative answer from 
Granard, to the question, “You are coming this even- 
ing?” and then the Bishop passed on. 

It was rather early that evening when Granard made 
his way to the mansion — earlier than he had intended 
going, for his watch had gained some, a fact that he 
did not discover until later, when he found also that 
it was ready for repairs at the jewelers. 

“I am so glad you came early, Mr. Granard, for it 
gives us a chance for better acquaintance.” 

Granard hardly heard what the Governor was say- 
ing, he was so amazed to find Governor Morgan in full 
evening dress, and he took in the situation at once. 

“I didn't understand it was a reception, Governor 
Morgan. Bishop Northern didn't explain. I suppose 
he thought you had. I must beg to be excused, Gov- 
ernor, although I appreciate the courtesy. I am not 
properly dressed for the occasion.” 

“Not properly dressed? My friend, you look a 
Prince, and you must stay. It is not really a reception. 
Only an informal gathering of some of my closest 
friends, and only the host will be in evening dress. 
You must stay now, or hurt the Governor’s feelings, 
which would be unpardonable.” Governor Morgan 
laughed, and then he closed the door and stood before it 
so that there was no possible escape for him then, had 
he chosen to go. 

They did not have an opportunity to discuss the 
“question which had puzzled so many men in the last 
few weeks,” for by this time the guests were arriving, 
and the Governor became busy as host, forgetting 
questions of state for an evening with his friends. 
Among the first of the guests to arrive was Miss Grant, 
and she looked complete astonishment when she saw 
( 5 ) 


28 


THE CONQUEROR. 


that Granard was present. But she was not more 
astonished than pleased, for she went at once to him 
and threatened to monopolize him for the remainder 
of the evening, a prospect very pleasing to Granard, 
and which was carried out later, as Miss Grant had 
said. They found a tete-a-tete in a somew'hat seclud- 
ed corner of the drawing-room, and here they remained 
for the greater part of the evening. 

It was while they were sitting there that a man en- 
tered the hall, and from where Granard was seated, he 
could not fail to see him. A sudden chill passed 
though Granard, for he thought it was a man whom 
he had noticed eyeing him suspiciously in the street, 
on the evening before, and he guessed that the man was 
a detective. Granard turned pale. 

“Why, Mr Granard, are you ill ?" Miss Grant asked 
suddenly, detecting the strange pallor of his face. 
“You look pale." 

“0, no. It is the light, perhaps/' he said, assur- 
ingly. 

The detective passed on through the hall, and made 
his way immediately to where the Governor was stand- 
ing. He drew him aside, and asked the privilege of 
speaking with him privately for a moment. The 
Governor granted the request and ushered him into 
another room, where they were quite alone. 

“Governor, excuse me for intruding this evening/' 
the detective began, as he cautiously closed the door 
after him, “but I must let you know that Schaft is in 
your home." 

“What? Not Schaft, the desperado?" 

“Yes, he is sitting by Miss Grant. I saw him as I 
came in." 

The Governor, who a moment ago was so astonished, 
perceiving that there was a mistake, laughed outright, 
and yet he was indignant, too. 

“You’re wild man," Governor Morgain said, in rather 
more severe tones than he ever used, even in anger. 
“That is Mr. Granard. He is a friend of our Bishop, 
and he has no criminals for associates." 

“But — " the detective stammered. 

“0, I want no arguments and no scenes in my home 
this evening," the Governor interrupted, “and I will not 


THE CONQUEROR. 


29 


have the Bishop mortified by having it intimated that 
he has supected criminals for friends. This evening 
is for mine and my friends’ pleasure and not to be 
spoiled by any sensations.” 

The detective bowed himself out of the room, con- 
vinced then that as the Governor had said, he was 
wrong and as he passed through the hall again on his 
way out, and did not glance his way, Granard felt re- 
lieved. But he was still a trifle pale, nevertheless. 

“Do you feel better, Mr. Granard?” Miss Grant ask- 
ed, still insisting that he could not be well. 

“Never better in my life,” he assured her, just as 
the detective passed out of the front door. 

They had been speaking of the Governor and Bishop, 
and Granard’s interest turned again to the subject, as 
Miss Grant renewed the topic of conversation. Gra- 
nard had spoken of the two as being such splendid 
men. 

“Yes, they are both my ideal men,” Miss Grant an- 
swered. “That is — yes, they are my ideal men,” and 
then she thought, “but there are more ideal men in 
the world than Governor Morgan and Bishop North- 
ern,” and she looked deep into the eyes of Granard. 

Did he guess her thoughts? Was it mental tele- 
pathy that conveyed the idea to him? Something 
seemed to say that these were her thougths. And as 
he looked at her, Granard formed his opinion for the 
first time in his life of an ideal woman. She was more 
beautiful to him then than he had ever seen her. 
Gowned in white satin and old lace, the low cut neck 
displaying a beautiful neck and shoulders and with 
jewels flashing on her hands, in her hair and about her 
throat, she made a regal figure and was much admired 
by the guests present. 

And that Granard had made an impression on the 
guests was quite evident. His perfect manner, fault- 
less taste in dress and graceful, easy bearing ; his hand- 
some face, with the dark hair and eyes and regular 
features and his princely figure, made him an object of 
admiration for all present and he was the recipient of 
many rare smiles and glances from a number of the 
young women present, who could not but half envy Miss 


30 


THE CONQUEROR. 


Grant for her complete capture of the handsome 
stranger. 

The hours passed by rapidly — very happy hours for 
Granard and at last the guests arose to depart, and as 
they were bidding adieus to the Governor and his wife 
before leaving, one of the ladies present discovered that 
her diamond sun-burst was missing, a statement that 
created consternation among the guests. Immediately 
every one began a search for the missing gem, about 
the floors and furniture, Governor and Mrs. Morgan 
themselves joining in with them. A strange chill 
passed through the Governor as he thought of Granard, 
but he said nothing. 

When it seemed that the search was futile and the 
jewel could not be found, the Governor assured Mrs. 
Summers — this being the unfortunate lady's name — 
that he would have a thorough search made next morn- 
ing and return the jewel to her, for it was obliged to 
be about the floor somewhere. This was re-assuring 
enough and convinced that she would recover the jewel, 
Mrs. Summers went away satisfied, as were the other 
guests. However, Mrs. Summers said to her husband 
on their way home that evening : "I shall telephone the 
police* in the morning if my brooch is not found," and 
Mr. Summers was inclined to think this rather a wise 
suggestion, for the jewel must be forthcoming. 

On their return home, Mrs. Grant and Helen sat for 
some time together in the library, talking of the af- 
fairs of the evening. They discussed the delightful 
event in detail speaking regretfully of Mrs. Summers’ 
loss, but both assured that the sun-burst would be 
found about the floors of the mansion the next morn- 
ing. Then they spoke of Granard and Miss Grant was 
eager to know her mother's opinion of him, for Mrs. 
Grant did not often misjudge one's character, even on 
slight acquaintance. 

“What do you think of Mr. Granard, mother?" Helen 
asked. 

“He seems very nice indeed. I was very favorably 
impressed with him, but Helen, you should be more 
careful of strangers. You allowed him to monopolize 
almost your entire evening. You don't know who he 
i« " 


THE CONQUEROR. 


31 


“Why, the Governor entertained him at his home, 
mother, and the Bishop says he is one of the most 
intelligent men he ever met and that is recommenda- 
tion enough.” 

“Yes, it does seem so and I am not objecting. He 
does seem nice, and I have always been suspicious of 
a man who would wear a diamond ring on his little 
finger, but I have no more prejudices now. It is al- 
right — I am convinced. Some people make some rules 
exceptional and Mr. Granard has such perfect taste in 
dress that he can not be wrong in this, I am sure.” 

Assured that her mother was favorably impressed 
with her new acquaintance, and that she had no ob- 
jections to him as a friend for her, Miss Grant was 
more pleased than she had been over anything of the 
kind in many a day and she kissed her mother good- 
night with unusual tenderness before they went to 
their rooms. After retiring, Helen lay awake long 
into the night thinking of the events the day had 
brought and her last thoughts before she fell asleep 
were of Granard. 


32 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER III. 

It was several afternoons after this before Miss 
Grant saw Granard again. Gowned in velvet and 
furs, she was returning from a shopping expedition 
down town, when she saw him. coming down the street 
rather hurriedly. His head was thoughtfully bowed 
and he was surprised when he came face to face with 
Miss Grant. 

“Why, Mr. Granard!” she ejaculated. “I am so 
surprised — and so glad to see you. Why haven't you 
been to see me?” she asked in injured tones before he 
had time to reply to her first remark. 

Granard answered that he had been quite busy, 
which was true, as we shall presently see, but Miss 
Grant was not at all satisfied with the reply and she 
intimated this strongly in the same injured tones with 
which she had greeted him. 

“I am sorry that you find your new acquaintances 
so uninteresting. Mother and I have been reproach- 
ing ourselves that we have not been able to entertain 
you sufficiently to have you trouble yourself to call 
around and at least inquire after our health, but then 
I can hardly blame you, for I know I tire people dread- 
fully talking always of charitable work and my hobby, 
my proposed ‘girls' home,' and I have gotten mother 
into the habit of talking it, too, so I forgive you, Mr. 
Granard, for you are human, I know.” 

This time Granard's face wore the injured expres- 
sion and it was plain by his tones that he was hurt. 

“Why, Miss Grant,” he said, softly, “it is none of 
this and I am deeply concerned about yours and your 
mother's health, and would have been to inquire about 
you, but as I said, I have not had an opportunity'. But 
if you can find it in' your heart to forgive me, I would 
like to spend this evening with you. You are charit- 
able to the rest of the world, will you not be to me?” 

There was a serious expression in his deep, brown 


THE CONQUEROR. 


33 


eyes and for some reason, for a moment Miss Grant’s 
heart was filled with pity for him, for which she could 
not account. 

“Come around this evening and I will tell you wheth- 
er I’ve forgiven you or not,” she said in mock seri- 
ousness, and then breaking into a light, musical laugh, 
added, as she gave him her hand, “I will count on you, 
Mr. Granard, but I will not detain you now, as you are 
such a business man. I know you are in a hurry.” 

She said good-bye and was gone the next moment. 

Granard continued his way hurriedly down the 
street. Dusk was falling and he had not much time 
to lose. He walked on a mile farther perhaps, and by 
this time it was quite dark. Evidently from his 
looks he had no particular destination in view, but 
presently he stopped in front of a very humble look- 
ing cottage, and took in the surroundings for a mo- 
ment. He could see through the open window a 
woman and three small children, and they seemed to 
be quite alone. Granard hesitated no longer, but 
stepped up to the front door and knocked. The 
woman herself came in response. 

“Madame, I am a stranger here and will be inter- 
ested in this, part of the city for several days. Could 
you take me for lodging for a few days, possibly a 
week? I am not at all particular about the accommo- 
dations, but must be near my business.” 

The woman hesitated for a moment only. In the 
dark she had not perceived how well dressed the 
stranger was. To tell the truth, she had just been 
wondering how she could make a few dollars for the 
extra wants of the family. The baby had been ill and 
needed medicine, other things had come up and her 
regular week’s wages at the factory had about been 
consumed, so she had been almost praying over the 
situation, when Granard’s knock came at the door, and 
here seemed an answer to her prayers. She thought 
of the “spare room,” with its clean counterpane and 
bolster case — a room she had fitted out “to let,” but 
which she had not been successful in doing earlier, 
and so, when Granard said he would pay her anything 
she asked in advance, the woman, who said her name 
was Walton, hesitated no longer, and invited Granard 


34 


THE CONQUEROR. 


into the scanty, but neat and scrupulously clean 
room. 

Granard handed her over the money and, after look- 
ing after his comforts some* Mrs. Walton left the 
room, delighted at the good turn fortune had shown 
her, and also very much taken with the stranger, who 
seemed so kind-hearted and pleasant in his manner. It 
was very plain that he had won her confidence from 
the first. When she had left him, Granard went out- 
side and called to the man who was waiting in the 
street with his boxes. He had followed him all the 
way in a cart. The man took the baggage to Gran- 
ard’s room and deposited it there and after he was 
gone, Granard sank wearily into a chair and dropped 
his head back on the cushion. He was very tired, for 
he had covered many miles since noon, and this was 
his first opportunity for a rest. His statement to 
Miss Grant that he had been very busy was not false, 
for he had been busy dodging the police, and after they 
were once on his track, he dared not tarry long enough 
for a breath scarcely and to sit down and rest was 
out of the question. 

The truth was, he had started to get out of the city 
and was on his way to the outer edge of town where 
he could catch an out-going train, soon due, when he 
met Miss Grant, a circumstance which it seems had 
changed his plans materially, for he had promised 
to call that evening, and he must not break his 
word to her — and then he wanted one more evening 
with her, her smiles, her voice, her lovely face to look 
on. It might be madness to run the risk, but he must 
do so, for her sake — for his own sake, let the conse- 
quences be what they might. 

With this thought as an inspiration, he arose and 
arranged his toilet, and presently Mrs. Walton re- 
turned to announce what she called “supper,” but the 
meal Granard had always known as “dinner,” and 
Granard followed her to the dining room where a more 
sumptuous spread might have been served, but not a 
more palatable one and where linen might have been 
of finer texture, but not more spotless. Granard was 
hungry after his long walk, and he thought he had 
never enjoyed a repast more, and although it was un- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


35 


usual for him to eat heartily, he did justice to this 
plain, but well-prepared meal. He was seated at the 
head of the table, opposite Mrs. Walton and on either 
side of him sat a sweet-faced, demure little girl of 
about six years, and on the other, a chubby, bright- 
faced boy of about four, while Mrs. Walton held a baby 
boy of two in her arms, who laughed and cooed and 
wanted everything he could reach, but strangely did 
not cry if all his desires were not granted. 

Granard had not been seated at the table five min- 
utes before he began to perceive that he was having 
a royal good time. The little girl always smiling up 
at him was a means of real pleasure, while the little 
boy proved a constant source of amusement with his 
funny sayings and cunning ways. The baby, too, 
seemed to hold a charm for him, and Mrs. Walton her- 
self, whom Granard recognized as a woman above the 
ordinary in some respects, but whom circumstances had 
evidently made different from what she might have 
been, he found affable and even entertaining in a way. 
He had several hearty laughs before leaving the table 
at the children’s odd sayings, and some of Mrs. Wal- 
ton’s anecdotes, or rather the experiences she had had 
in managing on a small income and making ends meet, 
^ which were half pathetic in a way, though told in a 
humorous strain, and he was not sorry he had been 
forced to stop overnight or longer with this comely, 
but interesting family. He sat talking with Mrs. 
Walton and the children for some time after supper, 
while Mrs. Walton held the baby in her arms in an 
attempt to rock him to sleep, but he was very wakeful 
and restless, until the mother getting out of patience, 
said in soft, but threatening tones, “Go to sleep or 
Dick^lSchaft will get you,” at which all the children 
looked alarmed and the child became submissive. 
Granard experienced a new sensation. Little children 
were frightened to sleep by his name. 

“Am I a wild animal, that they should be afraid of 
me? I have never kidnapped one yet. The fact is, 
I don’t know what I should do with one, if I had it. 
I could not well carry it around with me.” 

Granard arose and going to his room, made a more 
elaborate toilet than the one made earlier in the 
( 6 ) 


36 


THE CONQUEROR. 


evening, and then he made his way again to Miss 
Grant's, where he spent the evening more pleasantly, 
if possible, than on any former occasion since he had 
known her. During the conversation, Miss Grant 
casually mentioned the fact that Mrs. Summers had 
found her brooch. ‘‘It was in the fringe of her shawl, 
she discovered on reaching home, and she called the 
Governor up and told him of it.” 

Granard said he was glad and then the conversation 
drifted to other things. The evening was passed so 
pleasantly that Granard made one resolve — not to 
leave the town just yet at all hazards, although he 
realized that feeling was running high and he knew 
that if captured he would have to face the conse- 
quences; that he might not escape with his life — that 
he would probably not even be allowed a trial. And 
he had a horror of prison life, although he had never 
been confined behind the bars, but he was filled with 
the horror of it, at the mere thought, and he hoped for 
almost any fate but this. Still with all these fears 
he had made up his mind to remain longer. He wanted 
to linger there at all hazards. He wanted to see a 
certain beautiful face again — to hear a certain soft 
voice. He would risk anything he felt for this pleas- 
ure once more. To breathe the same atmosphere 
where kindness had been shown him — the only kindness 
in years. 

“If I have to go to prison, I want to spend my life 
here, where she is. She will come occasionally to see me 
and sing songs to Schaft, the criminal. Yes I'll get 
caught here. It must be some where and it might as 
well be here,” and with this new resolve, he went about 
for some days with absurd recklessness, regardless of 
consequences, but somehow he did not get captured. 
He was still with Mrs. Walton, and continuing in the 
good graces of the family. The children had learned 
to adore him and to look to him as they did heroes in 
fairy tales, he humored them in so many ways. 

On one occasion the little girl seemed more demure 
than usual and would not smile at all and Granard, in- 
quiring of her mother what was wrong with little 
Susan, learned that she wanted a doll. “But I just 


THE CONQUEROR. 


37 


can't get it for her," Mrs. Walton added, sighing un- 
consciously. 

When Granard returned home at noon that day, he 
had a package for little Susan, which filled her heart 
with joy on opening it. It contained the long coveted 
treasure she had thought of by day and dreamed of by 
night. So that lonely little girl had her doll and she 
was all smiles again. But one day Granard came 
home to find her in tears. She had dropped her treas- 
use and broken it. 

“O, well, we’ll have another. Don't cry," Granard 
said comfortingly as he drew her on his knee. 

The child ceased crying, and looked up and smiled. 
She had perfect confidence in her new friend's word, 
and that afternoon, when Granard brought a larger 
and prettier one, she was even glad the other doll had 
been broken. He had brought cheer and comfort to 
that lonely cottage in many ways. 

Granard had been with Mrs. Walton a week, and was 
just beginning to feel at home and safe, when it oc- 
curred to him that his whereabouts were known, or at 
least suspected. He was returning home late one 
afternoon, when he caught a glimpse of Wilkes, the 
detective, who was watching him from the entrance 
of a shop, about a half a block away. Involuntarily 
Granard quickened his footsteps and, glancing 'round, 
he saw that Wilkes was following. He hurried on to 
Mrs. Walton's and finding her bed room door open and 
vacant, except for the baby, who was lying in the bed 
crying, he quickly took off his coat and collar and, 
opening a closet door put the coat there, and took from 
a hook a pair of much worn trousers which he slipped 
on hastily over his own. Mrs. Walton was a widow 
of three months and these trousers which had belonged 
to her husband, Granard had happened to see hanging 
in the closet when Mrs. Walton had opened the door 
while he was in the room on a former occasion. Then 
Granard picked up the baby in his arms and began 
walking the floor with the youngster, who continued 
to yell as if he were being murdered. 

Granard stepped out into the hall to the front door 
with the baby still in his arms, and as he did so, he 
came face to face with Wilkes who was coming up the 


38 


THE CONQUEROR. 


steps cautiously and noiselessly. Wilkes looked sur- 
prised when he saw the man of the house standing 
there with the baby in his arms, but it was quite 
dark and neither could distinguish the other's features. 

“I have come to arrest Schaft, the criminal. I just 
saw him come in here," Wilkes said, in scarcely more 
than a whisper. “Is he here?" 

Granard assumed complete astonishment. “A man 
was here only a moment ago, but he passed on through 
the house. He claimed he wanted to inspect the 
premises. I thought he acted strangely. He passed 
through the house hurriedly and went out of the back 
door. If you hurry, you may get him." 

Wilkes started at once in the direction of the kitchen 
where Mrs. Walton was preparing supper. Granard’s 
heart went to his throat. What of Mrs. Walton? 
Granard would have been trapped, had it not dawned 
on him to catch Wilkes by the coat sleeve and say to 
him, “If you see my wife on the way, don't let her 
know what you want. She is not in a condition to be 
excited. Say that you, too, have come to inspect the 
premises." 

Wilkes said he would, and rushed on through the 
house without encountering Mrs. Walton and so on 
down the back street, inquiring excitedly of all the per- 
sons he met if they had seen a well-dressed stranger 
any where in the vicinity, but no one could give him 
the desired information. 

Granard put the baby down long enough to remove 
the trousers and put them back in their place and put 
on his coat again. And the baby continued to cry. But 
when Mrs. Walton returned from the kitchen some mo- 
ments later, she found the child asleep in Granard's 
arms. The little fellow, rebellious at first and afraid 
of this big man Granard, had at last made friends and 
become amiable and submissive 

“What a kind-hearted man," Mrs. Walton thought, 
“I'm so glad he is with us. I am not afraid at nights 
now, nor afraid of Dick Schaft, and I have slept more 
peacefully since he has been with us than I have in all 

the three months since Samuel — her husband died. 

But now, with some one to protect us, I need have no 
more fears for our safety." 


THE CONQUEROR. 


39 


Mrs. Walton took the baby from Granard’s arms and 
deposited the sleeping child on the bed. Then Granard 
arose and went to his room. A smile of satisfaction 
and amusement was on his face. 

“These police are tame/’ he thought. “I could stay 
here safely a year. At any rate Fm not going to leave 
the city just yet. I am enjoying the game too much, 
and besides I am very well satisfied with my surround- 
ings, and then I have an engagement for this evening 
to call on Miss Grant and I shall not deny myself the 
pleasure. I promised to teach her and her mother 
chess.” 

It was while Granard was in his room that a neigh- 
bor ran in to Mrs. Walton with the startling statement 
that the man who was staying with her was Schaft. 
But Mrs Walton did not lose her composure, and she an- 
swered serenely: “0, I think not. Schaft would not 
own a Bible and be a good man, too.” 

For some reason Mrs. Walton did not mention the 
fact that Granard was then in his room and as she 
seemed to discredit the statement so completely, the 
neighbor changed the subject, and Schaft was soon 
forgotten. And Granard continued to make his abode 
with Mrs. Walton, but he was careful not to be seen 
in the day time about the place, but came and went 
almost altogether at nights and in the early morn- 
ings, so no one saw him again in the neighborhood 
and excitement about Schaft soon died out in that 
locality. He spent his nights in his room at Mrs. Wal- 
ton’s, except for exercise for a while in the open. 
No gambling dens allured him now. He had quit 
cards quite recently — within the last few days. He 
cared no more for them, somehow now. A pair of 
blue eyes, it seems, had caused the transformation. 
The spots on the cards — the red hearts and diamonds 
and the other figures were a pair of blue eyes. He 
could see nothing else and this seemed to be a reproach 
to him in a way. It will be said in justice to Granard 
that he had never gambled heavily. It was a mere 
pastime with him, not a means now of making money, 
for in all cases when the stakes were heavy, he as it 
happened, was loser without exception and so, though 
the papers had painted him as a professional gambler, 


40 


THE CONQUEROR. 


in this respect the reports were exaggerated. He 
was a skillful player so far as science was concerned, 
but luck was, nearly always, bad. Granard had never 
thought of cards as a great harm until he heard Miss 
Grant’s opinion of them. Suddenly then, cards became 
very distasteful to him and he was not seen in a 
gambling den soon afterward. He spent his evenings 
reading — his favorite pastime. He had in his posses- 
sion a kind of scrap-book, the pages of which he had 
filled with clippings concerning Schaft, the crook, and 
it was well filled, for every crime which had been com- 
mitted in the different cities where he had been for 
some time past, if the real offender could not be found, 
was laid at Schaft’s door, and there were enough to 
have sent him to the penitentiary a dozen life times. 

“It must keep St. Peter busy recording all my sins 
and transgressions. I am afraid he finds it necessary 
to keep a private secretary for me, and he’ll be present- 
ing me with a bill for all this extra expense when I die,” 
he thought. 

For his amusement, Granard had clipped many of 
the most sensational and atrocious accounts out of the 
papers and pasted them in his book, and he often look- 
ed through the volume to amuse himself. It was very 
ludicrous to him at times, but sometimes he would be 
overwhelmed with grief at what his life had been, 
but recently, very recently, he was learning to overcome 
the feeling of bitterness which took complete posses- 
sion of him at times, to a great extent, for in moments 
of discouragement a pair of blue eyes would come be- 
fore his vision, as an inspiration, with the remembrance 
of which, all would be well again. Nothing was wrong 
then. 

Beside Mrs. Walton’s, there was another place of 
refuge for Granard, and he often went here rather than 
to Mrs. Walton’s, for fear of causing her a fright, and 
then Granard was wise enough not to confine himself 
to one place pf refuge or safety. It was in the upstairs 
of an old and unused building in the outer edge of the 
city, having been tenantless for years, and for this 
reason there was a tradition among the superstitious 
that the house was haunted. Granard spent many 
nights here, too, with his beloved books, unmolested. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


41 


Several nights had been passed in this retreat, but one 
evening a slight noise warned him that there was some 
one just outside his door. He had guessed the 
truth. Almost an entire police force waited outside, 
and they were quick about their work, not daring to 
lose a moment. They opened the door suddenly and — 
found the room empty. Amazed, they looked at each 
other, and then all ’round, making a close search of the 
room, but Granard was not there. 

The room was empty, except for a few scant and 
rude furnishings, which consisted of a box, evidently 
used as a chair, a kerosene lamp, which was placed on 
a shelf that had been built in the wall. There was 
no bed. Granard did not sleep on these nights. He 
read all night and only took refuge here in a very 
close call, when there was no other alternative. It did 
not occur to the police to look out of the window, being 
located on the second floor as the room w T as. Had they 
done so, they would have found Granard hanging sus- 
pened on an improvised rope ladder just outside his 
window, half way down the side of the house. 

‘Tie’s here somewhere,” Granard heard some one of 
them declare, firmly, “and we’ll stay here ’till morning, 
if necessary to find him.” 

They left the room to make a search of the house, 
convinced that he was not in this particular room. 
Granard bounded lightly through the window and re- 
sumed his reading for some moments. 

“I don’t like to be interrupted' when I’m reading my 
Bible,” he thought, “but I’m afraid the money invested 
in my Bible has been thrown away. It seems my 
friends, the police, object to my even doing this.” 

They would not let him read his Bible in peace! 
This time it was that wonderful story of Sampson and 
Delilah, and he was interested to absorption. Finish- 
ing the chapter he was reading, he put the book back 
in his pocket. Then he heard a noise for the second 
time. His trained sense of hearing, acute as an ani- 
mal’s, could not be deceived. The men were return- 
ing. An instant later Granard was suspended again 
on the ladder, which he had wisely constructed for 
such emergencies. 


42 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“We’ll get him, if we have to burn this shack down. 
He’s in this house,” some one announced, as firmly as 
the other statement conveyed to him through the open 
window had been made. 

The threat was carried out, for, for the ransom 
of a cool eleven thousand, nothing could be too des- 
perate to undertake. The house and premises were 
well guarded, and it was some time before the confla- 
gration occurred. The house was burned to the 
ground, and Granard was at Mrs. Walton’s in bed and 
sleeping the sleep of the innocent during this time. 
Having jumped from bis place of refuge, he had gone 
quickly there. He had suspected that he was being 
watched that afternoon and not wishing to give Mrs. 
Walton a fright, especially in her condition, had gone 
straight to the house in the suburbs. 

“I’d hate to think I was the cause of her death. 
These children need their mother badly. Little Susan 
could never get along in this cold, heartless world With- 
out her. She’s too timid. My, but I’m getting con- 
siderate. What will I be saying and doing next? 
I’ll be joining the Salvation Army before I know it. 
But I must get to bed. I may need all the rest I can 
get before this time tomorrow night.” 

And he did. He remained in his room all day until 
nightfall on the day following, but if Mrs. Walton had 
seen him in the clothes he wore, she would not have 
recognized him as the same man. Granard took the 
precaution, however, not to let her see him leave the 
house. He wore an old and very much worn coat and 
trousers, with a hat that corresponded with the rest of 
his apparel, the whole costume being that of the typical 
tramp. 

“This is not the suit I intend wearing when I’m pre- 
sented at court, and it is not King Edward’s idea of 
the cut of a coat, I imagine, but I suppose it will do for 
this occasion.” 

He smiled at his own reflection, but catching a 
glimpse of his figure, reflected in the mirror across 
the room, before making his way out into the night, 
the thought of the grim tragedy he represented, took 
the smile away, and Granard closed his eyes and his 
head dropped heavily on his breast. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


43 


“Les Miserables,” he groaned. He was weary of 
being constantly on the watch — of being hounded 
down. With a deep sigh of discontent and disappoint- 
ment, he turned and walked slowly out of the house. 

“I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.” These re- 
markable words came to mind just then and filled him 
with a strange hope. 

“I will have to depend on Miss Grant’s friend, the 
Lord, this time. If the promise is true, all will be well 
with me, I suppose,” he thought. 

He had not gone many squares before he was con- 
scious of the fact that a policeman was watching him. 
Granard passed on unconcerned, while the policeman 
was thinking: “0, you needn’t try to disguise yourself 
in that garb. We know who you are.” 

Granard felt it was a risky thing to do, but he had 
promised Miss Grant to let her hear from him that day, 
as she had said she had something to say to him and 
he must not, of course, break his word to her and act- 
ing on the impulse, he entered a shop where a tele- 
phone pay station was located. It would doubtless be 
his last opportunity that evening to call her, and he 
must at any risk. Luckily there was no delay in get- 
ting connection, and in a moment Miss Grant’s voice 
was being conveyed to him over the ’phone. 

'‘Can’t you come ’round this evening?” she asked, 
after explaining to him that it would take her some 
time to tell him all she had to say, for there was a mes- 
sage for him from the Bishop. 

“No, I’m afraid not — ” 

“Now, why?” she asked, woman-like, her tones be- 
traying some disappointment. “I’ll bet he has an 
engagement with some other woman,” she concluded 
immediately, and she could not resist the temptation 
to intimate strongly that she suspected this. 

Granard could not refrain from laughing, and he 
denied the accusation emphatically. 

“No, I haven’t, really, and— er — I’m not properly 
dressed to come. I’m in my working clothes, and 
haven’t time to change, as I am in somewhat of a 
hurry.” 

“Are you so busy, then?” 

(7) 


44 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“Yes,” he said, and then thought: “at my old trade, 
dodging the police.” 

Granard heard a policeman's whistle, and saying 
good-bye, hastily, hung up the receiver. When he 
reached the sidewalk he observed that there were 
three policemen, where he had seen the other standing, 
instead of one, for, for fear of losing his game, the first 
policeman would not try to catch Schaft unassisted. 
Granard sauntered on rather indifferently with the 
three men not far behind. He walked another half 
block and turning suddenly, went into an inn of not 
very good repute, for usually it was the rougher and 
coarser class who cared to be accommodated here. Gra- 
nard knew the arrangement of the house like a book. 
(He had made it a point to, study the arrangement of 
several public houses on a former occasion.) Going 
hastily up the stairs, he entered a small, unused room, 
just at the head of the stairway, which opened out in- 
to the hall. 

Three minutes later the three policemen entered the 
inn. On the stairs as they were going up, they met 
a man well dressed in a grey suit of latest cut and fash- 
ion. He wore a grey hat to correspond and carried a 
package under his arm. 

“Did you see a hobo come in here?” one of them 
asked in cautiously low tones. 

“Yes, I saw him upstairs only a moment ago,” the 
man in grey answered promptly. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it. If you're after him, perhaps I 
can be of some assistance to you. Would you like 
to have me help you ?” 

“Sure. We are after him and need all the help we 
can get.” 

The men would stop to explain no more, but ran 
quickly and noiselessly up the steps to the landing 
above, the man in grey following closely after them. 

“Look in here,” he suggested, pointing to the small 
room at the head of the stairs, but an examination 
proved that Schaft was not there. 

They searched from attic to cellar, but no Schaft. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


45 


It was very exciting for all. But suddenly the man in 
grey disappeared and he was seen no more by the police 
that evening. He had left them without any explana- 
tion, for he was somewhat rushed for time, and hurry- 
ing out to the street corner, boarded a passing car. 

“I think I shall go to Miss Grant’s for awhile after 
all, for I did have time to change my clothes. She 
seemed hurt when I said I couldn’t come this evening, 
and I want to prove to her that I have not been call- 
ing on any other young lady,” Granard mused, for it 
was he. 

He had gone into the little room at the inn, where 
the police were yet searching for him and taken off the 
old coat, trousers and hat, which left him so jauntily 
arrayed in the grey tuxedo. The soft grey felt hat 
had been rolled up and deposited in one of the large 
pockets of the ragged coat he had worn a few moments 
earlier. The package under his arm contained the 
old clothes he had worn. He dared not leave them, 
for that would make them suspect '‘the man in grey,” 
and he would be lost, and, furthermore, he carried 
them for future use, for it was a right hard matter to 
get just such clothing when one wanted them at a 
moment’s notice, and he must preserve them for other 
possible emergencies. 

Alighting from the street car, after going several 
miles across the city, Granard went straight to Miss 
Grant’s. He deposited his package at the foot of the 
steps, and went in and a moment later rang the door 
bell. Miss Grant herself came to the door and receiv- 
ed him more cordially than on any former occasion, 
Granard thought. A shade of doubt had vanished 
from her brow as soon as she saw her friend. He did 
not go to see another woman after all. How nice! 
She was alone down stairs, and ushered him in the 
front parlor. 

“How pale you are, Mr. Granard. What is the mat- 
ter ?” Miss Grant asked, looking up at him in sudden 
alarm. 

“Just tired,” Granard answered complacently 
though Miss Grant thought she detected a shade of 
weariness in the tones. 


46 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“I’ve been in a sort of rush for the last hour, or so, 
and was so busy for awhile that I was afraid I couldn’t 
call this evening, but I finally found an opportunity 
and came right on to see you and to show you that I 
didn’t go to see any other woman.” 

“It was nice of you. I'm glad you came,” she said, 
sincerely. “Do you know I would have been very 
much disappointed if you had gone to see another wom- 
an this — ” Miss Grant did not finish the sentence. She 
realized that she had admitted too much already and 
she dropped her eyes guiltily to the floor, while a faint 
color tinted her cheeks. 

A silence followed, broken at last by Miss Grant 
herself, who had at last regained her composure. “I 
hope you are not working too hard, Mr. Granard,” she 
suggested. “Sometimes it is poor economy you know.” 

Granard replied that he would not expend any more 
energy on his labors than was necessary, he was sure, 
and thanked her for her concern about him. He 
would have said something about her own welfare, 
perhaps, had not Miss Grant half guessed his inten- 
tions and feeling that she had opened the way for flat- 
tery towards her if he chose, she quickly changed the 
subject to deliver the Bishop’s message, which concern- 
ed the young men’s class. 

“I don’t want him to think I am opening the 
way for him to say nice things to me — but why 
doesn’t he say something just a little sentimental oc- 
casionally?” Miss Grant was thinking all the while. 

Woman-like, she would not have had him make any 
advances for fear he had misconstrued her in the situ- 
ation, and yet she was half disappointed that he did 
not, unreasonable as it was to suppose that both of her 
desires could be granted at the same time. But Miss 
Grant consoled herself with the thought that Mr. Gran- 
ard was too much of a gentleman to even hint at such 
a thing on such short acquaintance, and she was sure 
she would not have it otherwise, for this was why she 
had become so disenchanted with the many suiters who 
had been with her formerly — they had been too senti- 
mental and persistent, and this was very obnoxious 
to her. But here was a man who did not indulge in 
this sort of thing and this made him very attractive 


THE CONQUEROR. 


47 


to Miss Grant, and added one more good point to his 
already long list of virtues in her eyes. 

And so the evening passed, with no allusion to senti- 
ment. The hours seemed like minutes, the minutes 
like seconds to both, the time passed by so quickly. 
Presently the door bell rang again, and Miss Grant 
went to see who it could be. It was a boy acquaintance 
come to return a book she had let a friend have. The 
boy was leaving, and Miss Grant was just in the act 
of closing the door, when her eye fell on the bundle 
at the foot of the steps. She asked the lad if he had 
left it and, assuring her that he had not, he turned and 
went away. Immediately Miss Grant was seized with 
a curiosity to know what the package contained and she 
ran quickly down the steps to investigate. Granard, 
who had followed her, was outwitted, but he stood 
calmly by and saw her examine the package. She 
turned it over and it fell open and revealed the tramp’s 
clothing. Miss Grant jumped up excitedly. 

“0, Mr. Granard.” she cried, grasping his arm, 
“There is a tramp around somewhere and these are his 
clothes — and oh, Schaft is in town !” 

Granard smiled as he said, assuringly, while he felt 
her hand trembling on his arm, “0, there’s no cause 
for alarm, I think. Some one in passing might have 
thrown them there.” 

But Miss Grant was not satisfied with the reply and 
insisted that he should go back in the house and tele- 
phone the police. 

“That is not necessary. There’s no use,” he ar- 
gued. 

“But I will be so much better satisfied if they come 
and look over the premises. Indeed, I shall not be 
satisfied unless they do,” she insisted. “You know 
auntie and mother arid Rose Mary and myself are here 
alone and unprotected,” with an appealing glance. 

That settled it, and Granard went to the ’phone and 
called the number. It was a new experience, this 
telephoning the police to have himself arrested. 

“I’ve read in books about what men would do for a 
woman and thought it was absurd, but here I am put- 
ting my life in jeopardy for the mere whim of a woman. 


48 


THE CONQUEROR. 


But the Queen must have her bidding, and I am her 
subject and must obey.” 

In ten minutes two mounted policemen were there. 
They looked all 'round and made a tour of the premises 
and presently returned with the report that they had 
found no one. Miss Grant was then satisfied, and 
Granard would have felt relieved as Miss Grant assured 
the men that no one was there and that they might go 
then, had he not seen one of the men eyeing his mous- 
tache. A black moustache created suspicion any- 
where while Schaft was thought to be in town, whether 
worn by a Catholic priest or a Methodist minister. 
Granard was well aware of this fact, but he would not 
sacrifice the moustache at any risk. 

Being satisfied now that there was really no farther 
cause for alarm, Miss Grant bade the men good-night, 
thanked them for their trouble, and closed the door. 
She returned to the drawing room, Granard following, 
while the police were outside closely examining the 
package which had created all the disturbance. It 
was the clothes worn by Granard that evening. Out- 
side they waited, still examining the bundle and quickly 
arrived at their own conclusions regarding the cloth- 
ing. 

Granard lingered. He did not seem inclined to go. 
He had thought that one of the men had suspected 
him and that they were waiting outside he was quite 
certain. This was a dilemma — Granard's greatest. 
How should he escape ? What do ? He did not care 
for himself now, but Miss Helen. 0, how he regretted 
the folly of his coming! At last he arose to go. He 
must face the consequences. He offered Miss Grant 
his hand and was bidding her good-night when she in- 
terrupted him by saying: "I'm going to Kate's to 
spend the night again Mr. Granard. I promised her I'd 
come, as she's going away on a visit tomorrow, and a 
young cousin of mine is coming presently to stay with 
mother, Aunt Mary and Rose Mary for the night, so if 
you don't mind, will you go with me there? We can 
go out by this side door. It is the back way, but I 
know you won't mind being informal for this one oc- 
casion. I always go that way as it shortens the dis- 
ance so. And as you seem tired, I suppose you won't 


THE CONQUEROR. 


49 


really mind saving a few steps. I was going to get my 
cousin to go with me, but if you don't mind — ” 

“Delighted,” Granard assured her, interrupting. 

They turned to go, but after a few steps Helen stop- 
ped and said : “No, we will go the front way. This is 
too informal,” apologetically. 

“No, indeed, I was always fond of going out of the 
back way, that is — I mean — I'd so much rather go that 
way.” 

“Very well, then,” was the sweet, submissive answer, 
and Granard followed Miss Grant through the hall and 
out on the back piazza. 

There was no necessity to turn down the lights. Her 
cousin would do this when he came. Granard took 
his companion's arm and silently they went down the 
steps, and down the path of the Italian rose garden. 
They were very quiet somehow, for some time and were 
crossing the old grove, where they had first met, in si- 
lence. A thousand memories arose in Granard's mind 
and Helen Had not so soon forgotten. At last she 
spoke. 

“Do you know, we are on the most sacred ground 
connected with my life?” she said. 

Granard's heart stood still. 

“It is sacred to me, too, he answered, softly. 

“I played here when I was a child and my father 
spent many of his leisure hours here with me. 
He loved this spot, and that is why it is sacred.” 

Granard was keenly disappointed in the explana- 
tion. He wished there had been none. Another si- 
lence ensued. Seeing that he was not going to explain 
why the spot was sacred to him, Helen asked: “And 
why is it sacred to you, Mr. Granard. 

Granard was trapped. She was going to make him 
say something sentimental, if it was her last act and 
she had to force it from him. 

“Because I, too, spent most of my childhood under 
the shade of some beautiful old spreading oak trees, 
and I have seen these trees often since I came and 
learned to admire them in memory of those days.” 
Granard was sure he had explained himself, but he 
found himself adding very much against his will, for 
he was determined not to force his real attitude toward 


50 


THE CONQUEROR. 


Miss Grant on her, as it would surely be very distaste- 
ful to her, “it is sacred to me because I met you here, 
too,” he added graciously. 

This time Helen’s heart was unruly, but she talked 
calmly on, apparently unaffected by the remark. 

“I shall never forget that night — I was afraid of 
Schaft and I have been ever since, even now as I think 
of him,” she said, seriously, “I lie awake nights think- 
ing of him.” 

They were at Kate’s now and had stopped on the 
lawn in front of her door to talk for a few moments, 
when suddenly and without warning a figure emerged 
from the shrubberies just in front of them. Helen 
gave a sudden start and unconsciously turned and 
slipped her hand in Granard’s. It might have been 
an impulsive act, but it was rather natural to turn to 
one for protection under such circumstances. Helen 
was thoroughly frightened, although it developed that 
the figure was that of none other than the gardener 
who was leaving the place for the night. At the touch 
of Helen’s hand on his own Granard was thrilled and 
as impulsively as Helen’s act had been, he placed his 
other hand over hers, and held it tightly between the 
palms of both his own. For a full moment there was 
a silence He was trembling, but she calm and unre- 
sisting. 

“Mr Granard,” she said softly, “I don’t see why I al- 
low you this privilege. I — thought it — was Schaft and 
was frightened. I am every time I think of him. 
But do you know I have half a dozen or more young 
men friends who would be glad to have me frightened 
by Schaft, if I would allow them this privilege, but I 
have never permitted it before, and I can’t explain 
now,” she hurried on. “Perhaps it is because I never 
have felt that I really cared — or — that is — I realized 
that I had not met my affini — 0, what am I saying? I 
must go in.” 

She released her hand and ran lightly up the steps. 
He followed her to the door and she gave him her hand 
again in parting as she said in trembling tones, 
her voice betraying some emotion; “Good-night, Mr. 
Granard. God bless and keep you safely.” 

Here Kate appeared at the door and Helen went in- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


51 


side. Granard turned away and stepping back to the 
place on the lawn, where she had stood, kneeled and 
kissed the spot where her feet had been. Then he 
arose and left the premises, going at once to Mrs. Wal- 
ton’s. 

When Helen stood in the full light of Kate’s bed- 
room, Kate discovered her face covered with blushes. 
‘'Why, Helen,” she laughed, “what is it ?” 

“0, Kate, I — have — a confession — ” she hesitated, 
in some confusion, uncertain as to whether it would be 
wise to tell or not, for it might be too bad and dread- 
ful a thing to confess, and Kate’s good opinion of her 
might be forfeited as a result, but she had gone so far 
as to excite Kate’s curiosity, and now she must confide 
in her friend. 

“Kate,” Helen began gravely, “I let — Mr. Granard 
— hold my hand, and he a perfect stranger. Why, I 
never did such a thing before in my life.” 

Miss Fielding laughed outright, long and merrily. 
She was eminently amused. 

“Shocking, Helen,” she cried, in mock severity, and 
then she burst into a laugh again. “Helen,” she said, 
“you must be an angel. Come here and let me see if 
you have not wings.” 

Kate, who was a typical society belle, loved to dance 
and holding hands was a sort of habit she had acquired 
since her coming out a few years previously. 

“Then, of course Mr. Granard kissed you,” Kate add- 
ed. 

“Of course he did not,” indignantly. “Mr. Granard 
is too much of a gentleman.” 

“Then he’s a gentleman angel, and I know he has 
wings without examining. Any man who is human 
would have kissed a woman who deliberately put her 
hand in his when he had offered no advances as you say 
he had not done. But my dear, good, innocent child, I 
dare say you’ll be forgiven. Somehow I can’t be- 
lieve that holding hands is the unpardonable sin. You 
are good Helen,” she went on, her voice dropping into 
a graver tone. “I only wish I were half as good. Do 
you know, I am thinking of giving up dancing and 
cards. I know you’ve been praying for me, you 
needn’t say you have’nt,” and Kate leaned forward and 
( 8 ) 


52 


THE CONQUEROR. 


kissed Helen affectionately on the cheek. Shortly aft- 
erwards they retired for the night and were soon sleep- 
ing, but Helen’s slumbers were somewhat broken b> 
a troubled, yet pleasant dream, delicious almost in its 
termination. She thought she was awakened in a dark 
room and Schaft was there. She screamed with 
fright and in an instant the form of Schaft vanished 
and Granard was by her side — and he took her in his 
arms and in gentle, reassuring tones, begged her to 
trust to him for her safety. Then she was unafraid 
and was glad she had been frightened. Helen awoke 
her companion. 

“0, Kate,” she cried, “I had such a bad dream and 
such a glorious one, too. I thought Schaft was in here 
and then — that he changed to Mr. Granard — and — er — 
he told me — not to be afraid — and — ” but Helen could 
get no farther, growing suddenly timid and her lips 
refused to reveal even the dream. 

“Well, I see the bad part, but not the delicious part. 
Helen you’re nervous over this wretched Schaft. I 
can’t believe he is in town. He is a myth, I know. Go 
to sleep and think no more of him,” and with her 
arms around Kate’s neck, Helen was soon sleeping 
again. 

Meanwhile, Granard at home in his bed, at Mrs. Wal- 
ton’s lay staring, open-eyed into the darkness, not 
dreaming, but wondering, the magic touch of a soft 
hand still on his own. How wonderful it was — the 
touch of a woman’s hand. In the ecstasy of the re- 
membrance of it, his troubles were banished, and he 
forgot, for the time being, the hardships which had 
been his — forgot that the path had been rugged and 
stony, and that, for so long a time he had been tossed 
about on a restless, disturbed sea, as it were. He had 
been suddenly transformed into a fairyland, or kind of 
paradise and was delirious with happiness at the 
thoughts which surged through his mind, but with all 
the roseate hues before him in his vision, presently he 
turned over with a deep groan and there was no more 
peace of mind for Granard again that night. 

What became of the policemen waiting outside Miss 
Grant’s door? They had left the place before Granard 


THE CONQUEROR. 


53 


and Miss Grant started to Miss Fielding's. They 
might have been a trifle suspicious of the tramp’s 
clothing, but were not much disturbed about it, never- 
theless. Indeed, the circumstance was of so little 
consequence they thought, that finding the clothing 
was not even reported to headquarters and the myste- 
rious package had done no real harm after all. 


54 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER IV. 

“Helen, I think you are permitting Mr. Granard to 
call rather! too often,” Mrs. Grant said, as she entered 
her daughter's room, after Granard had left on 
the following evening. “You are letting indiscretion 
overbalance your prudence, and where are those scru- 
pulous ideas of propriety so long ago formed and here- 
tofore adapted?” she asked, not chidingly, but teas- 
ingly as she put her fingers under Helen’s chin and 
raised the womanly, yet still child-like face to her own. 
There was a shade of amusement behind the serious- 
ness in Mrs. Grant’s eyes as she put the question be- 
fore her daughter, for Mrs. Grant was not angry nor 
provoked. She knew too well that a word of reproval 
would be all that was necessary to make her daughter 
view the situation as with her own eyes. Helen’s an- 
swer was quite characteristic of her, and just what 
Mrs. Grant had expected. 

“I think so, too, mother, and I think Mr. Granard 
realizes it also. He said tonight he was afraid he 
was coming too often. That you might not approve, 
and that he didn’t want to take up too much of my 
time, which must be very valuable, and I didn’t exact- 
ly agree with him, but I didn’t insist on his calling 
again soon. Now, mind you mother, dear, I’m not 
tired of Mr. Granard, as you predicted I would be as 
soon as I was thrown with him very often — as the 
other young men friends whom you accused me of 
“casting aside.” To tell you the truth, dearie,”— her 
voice was growing very soft and low — it was a great se- 
cret, “I like him better every time I see him, and that is 
why I concluded not to let him come so often. I — I — 
just think it’s best, somehow.” 

“You are my own sensible girl,” Mrs. Grant said, 
approvingly. “I knew you would not be obdurate. 
You will think more of Mr. Granard not to see him 
quite so often and— this will hurt you dear, it has hurt 


THE CONQUEROR. 


55 


many a woman, but is true, nevertheless ; he will think 
more of you, too. He will appreciate you more by 
your holding somewhat aloof. Every man is that 
way, somehow, in regard to women. It is their make 
up. I suspected this before my marriage and your 
father often assured me that my opinion on this sub- 
ject is perfectly correct.” 

Mrs. Grant returned to her room more pleased with 
her daughter than she had ever been. She felt that 
it was the crucial test of her character, for Mrs. Grant 
was sure that Helen was in love. 

“I never find her disappointing,” she thought, in re- 
calling how submissive Helen had been in listening to 
her advice. “It has always been so with Helen. She 
is such a satisfactory child. I have never had a mo- 
ment’s anxiety on her account,” and in her prayers 
that night Mrs. Grant thanked God for His many 
blessings and asked that her two daughters be always 
to her as Helen was then. 

That Helen profited by the suggestion of her mother 
and took her advice regarding having Mr. Granard see- 
ing her too often, we shall soon see and also that she 
had cause later to regret it, or rather for a time it 
seemed that she had, for as a result of her mother’s bit 
of advice, on meeting him on the street soon afterward, 
she merely said “Good-morning,” and passed on with- 
out further comment, when she might easily have stop- 
ped and exchanged a few words with him, but remem- 
bering her mother’s words: “A man doesn’t appreci- 
ate a woman if he sees her too often,” she decided to 
profit by the suggestion at once, but when twenty-four 
hours passed and she had not heard from him, she be- 
gan to regret what she considered as being cold and 
rude, for she was certain that her friend was angry, 
which accounted for his silence. 

But if Helen had known the truth, she would have 
been convinced that Mrs. Grant was correct, as she al- 
ways was, for Granard had not only not thought she 
was not “cold and rude,” but he thought that “good- 
morning” was the sweetest “good morning” he had 
ever heard in his life. 

“Such a sweet voice. Not at all too condescending 


56 


THE CONQUEROR. 


or alluring. Miss Grant always knows just how to do 
everything correctly, even to saying “good-morning.” 
In all the books I’ve ever read, the heroine would al- 
ways stop the hero on the slightest provocation and I 
have always thought it would have been so much 
sweeter if the book had said, “and she hurried indiffer- 
ently past him,” — but heavens, what am I thinking 
of? Hero, indeed. Where is the hero? He is here 
in some of these large buildings, a banker, perhaps, a 
lawyer, doctor or preacher it may be, working for her 
and planning the future she so richly deserves — of 
plenty and comfort and happiness.” 

A sigh escaped Granard’s handsome lips, and a mad 
desire to go and throw himself into the river not far 
away took possession of him, but if he had started in 
that direction he would not have gone far on his jour- 
ney, for Granard observed that Wilkes was just across 
the 1 way, and that Wilkes was aware also of his exist- 
ence, so he turned and walked in an opposite direction, 
quickening his pace instinctively in the hopes of soon 
leaving Wilkes out of sight. But Wilkes was not going 
to let him escape this time, and glancing ’round, Gran- 
ard saw that he was only a very short distance behind 
him. Granard realized that he was in close quarters 
and in desperation he turned and went in the direction 
of the railway station, only a few squares away. He 
heard the whistle of an approaching train and, quick- 
ening his steps, reached the station just as the train 
was pulling out. The cars were moving rather rapid- 
ly, but he swung to the platform of the last coach 
and got aboard. Looking towards the central part of 
the city, he caught sight of Wilkes coming hurriedly 
towards the station, but just a few moments too late, 
for he had again lost his game. It was a through 
train to Jacksonville and when the conductor came 
through Granard paid his fare to that place, taking 
advantage of the best accommodations the train af- 
forded. 

“One of those rich tourists,” the conductor thought, 
as Granard produced a roll of bills from which he 
took out enough for his passage 

It was a long and tiresome journey to Granard for 
he was in no mood for travel, and he did not like the 


THE CONQUEROR. 


57 


idea of the distance which was separating him from the 
place that had held so many wonderful happenings for 
him in the last few weeks. As he reviewed it all, it 
seemed like a dream or some of the fairy tales he had 
read when a boy. He wished very much that he could 
fly back to this fairy land, or that there were some 
mode of transportation by which he might return at 
once, but it was a through train and as there was not 
a flying dirigible machine convenient, he must make 
the best of the situation, thankful that the train had 
been accommodating enough to come along just as it 
did, for otherwise his fate might have been very 
much harder, indeed. And he could return next day 
if he chose. On thinking it over, however, Granard 
decided that it might be best to remain over in Jack- 
sonville for a day or so, for then it would be under- 
stood that he had left the city he had just visited, 
permanently and he could return then with very much 
more safety. 

After what he regarded as an interminable length 
of time, he arrived at Jacksonville and going to a 
hotel near by, engaged rooms for a few days. It so 
happened that on the evening of his arrival the man- 
ager of the hotel gave a reception to the guests regis- 
tered there, this being an event which it seemed was 
customary to take place every week. Being one of the 
guests Granard was, of course, invited down to the 
drawing rooms, and thinking it better than spending a 
lonely evening in his rooms, he concluded to accept the 
invitation, as there was little or no danger of his identi- 
ty being known. In full evening dress, which he had 
hastily procured at a near-by tailor’s, in the after- 
noon, he did honor to the occasion, his toilet being in 
perfect accord with the occasion and his appearance in 
the crowd created somewhat of a stir, if not a sensa- 
tion, especially among the ladies present, who were 
immediately struck with Granard’s handsome face 
and princely figure, and a rumor that he was fabulously 
wealthy and unmarried, had almost created a panic 
among them. There was not a woman in the crowd 
who would not have felt flattered at his slightest at- 
tention, but none were more enthusiastic than the 
beautiful Miss Van Stryne, a dashing young belle and 


58 


THE CONQUEROR. 


heiress of New York, who was spending the winter 
season with her father in Jacksonville. Miss Van 
Stryne was talking to a genteman friend, when Gran- 
ard entered the room, and his appearance almost took 
her off her feet. 

“Who is he?” she asked breathlessly of her friend, 
referring to Granard. 

“Granard is his name, I believe. We exchanged a 
few words in the lobby. He just came in this after- 
noon,” the friend explained. 

Miss Van Stryne waited to hear no more, but begged 
for an introduction at once. 

“He is quite the handsomest man Fve seen and so 
faultlessly groomed, and he has such a distinguished 
bearing.” 

The friend who had been discussing Granard to Miss 
Van Stryne, explained farther that he really hardly 
knew Granard, but this seemed to make little, if any 
difference with the young lady, who still insisted on 
meeting the stranger and so, the obliging young gen- 
tleman went immediately in search of him. 

“The lady insists on an introduction, though I apol- 
ogize for this liberty to you, a stranger, but she would 
have me find you and bring you to her/” 

“Certainly. There is no apology necessary,” Gran- 
ard replied, courteously, and a few moments later he 
was standing before a very handsome and beautifully 
gowned young woman, very youthful in appearance, 
for she was yet in her teens, but evidently from her 
manner, very learned in all the social arts in spite of 
her tender age. She was quite attractive, and Gran- 
ard was pleased, if not captivated. From then on he 
was at her side and, as the evening wore on, Miss Van 
Stryne suggested that they go out on the balcony to- 
gether. He agreed, of course, and followed her to 
the farthest corner, where they were quite secluded 
and alone. 

Granard might have taken the liberty of flattering 
his fair companion, had he chosen, but he did not, and 
this was evidently a surprise to the young lady, for, 
it must be admitted, that this was her idea in suggest- 
ing the balcony, and she was disappointed. What man- 


THE} CONQUEROR. 


59 


ner of man was this ? Miss Van Stryne was husband- 
hunting, and out of the thousands of marriageable 
men she had met, and who were eager for the slightest 
encouragement from her, to share her riches, here, for 
the first time, was the “ideal” man. Miss Van Stryne 
was inclined to encourage Granard to be sentimental, 
but he was not responsive. 

“Why, he has not even attempted to hold my hand,” 
she thought, a thing evidently unprecedented in the 
history of Miss Van Stryne’s social experience. 

Had she ever been alone on a balcony before with a 
young man that he did not try to hold her hand? It 
was incredible. Miss Van Stryne was keenly disap- 
pointed at Granard’s lack of appreciation for her femi- 
nine charms and wondered what could possess him 
that he could be so indifferent, but Granard was hardly 
aware of her existence. He was thinking of a pair of 
blue eyes, and no other eyes in the world would have 
interested him then, not even the brilliant hazel orbs 
of the millionaire's daughter before him — and not even 
the millions could interest him, then. 

“0, well, if this stupid is not going to make love, I 
suppose we had as well go in,” she thought. “I'll 
go hunt up Reggie Mayson. He is not quite so slow, 
at least, if he is not quite so handsome. I suppose he 
will do to pass away the time with. I believe I am get- 
ting to be a man-hater, any way. All men are im- 
possible. But, oh, this Prince of a man! Who is he? 
I'd give all my fortune to be able to win him over. 
He is every inch a man. Such splendid shoulders and 
such beautiful, tapering limbs. Legs for a god! 
Heavens, what a prize. And indifferent! I've looked 
the world over for an indifferent man — I find him, and 
he cannot be captured !” 

Realizing this in a way, Miss Van Stryne at length 
suggested that they go in, and Granard obeyed, with- 
out offering any objections to the suggestion. 

And Miss Grant, at home, meanwhile, was wonder- 
ing why she had not heard from Granard. No word, 
or message, had come from him for a whole day, and 
when two days had passed, she was filled with wonder, 
which grew into indignation, on the third. Why had 
he not called her over the 'phone, or if this were incon- 
( 9 ) 


60 


THE CONQUEROR. 


venient, sent a messenger? Had some accident befal- 
len him? Was he ill, or, worst of all — indifferent? 
Helen went through the various stages, first of uneasi- 
ness, resentment and even anger. No one of her 
friends had ever treated her so before. They had nev- 
er neglected her or been in the least indifferent. At 
every telephone call she would run herself to answer, 
although this was usually the duty of one of the ser- 
vants, but it was everybody except Mr. Granard. 
Concluding that he surely must be ill, she called for the 
number of the hotel over the 'phone to inquire about 
him, but the man simply said he was gone, not stop- 
ping to explain that it had been some time since his 
name was on the register. 

Helen returned to her room and sat down to read, 
but presently the book fell from her hands to the floor, 
and she burst into tears. And she indulged in such 
a flood of weeping, as she had not done before in years. 
Not since her childhood had she taken anything of a 
trivial nature to heart so. But was it trivial? How 
could he treat her so ? Presently, however, pride took 
the place of resentment, and she forced the tears back, 
resolved to be stronger in this trying ordeal. 

“I believe I am touched,” Helen thought, “or it may 
be brain storm, this sudden and excessive admiration 
I have developed for Mr. Granard, but brain storm, or 
whatever it is, I am going to continue to like him until 
he proves unworthy.” 

It was not long before Kate came in. 

“Why, Helen, you look pale. You need a tonic, my 
dear. How is Mr. Granard?” she asked, laughingly. 

“Kate, I don't know. I haven't heard from him in 
months — I mean days. Kate, what do you suppose 
has become of him? Do you think — he has-been — 
killed?” the last in a whisper almost, and Kate ob- 
served that Helen had grown paler. 

“0, hardly. Don't look so worried, dear. Bad 
news travels fast, you know, and you are worrying all 
for nothing, I'm sure.” 

“Kate, you're such a comfort, but oh, I'm so 
afraid — ” 

The telephone bell rang. Helen sprang to her feet, 
and was at the 'phone a moment later. Then a voice 


THE CONQUEROR. 


61 


came to her over the wires — a voice, soft and musical 
and magnetic — a voice that sent her heart beating as 
it had never beat before. 

“Is that Miss Grant? Yes? I’ve been out of the 
city for a few days. I had to leave very unexpected- 
ly, or would have let you, know and I didn’t write you 
because I expected to return any day. How are you, 
Miss Grant?” 

To her reply that she had almost been ill, Granard 
was distressed. 

“I hope it’s nothing serious,” deeply concerned. 

“No, not serious exactly — but you were partly to 
blame.” 

“I? And how can I atone?” 

“I was very uneasy about you and almost angry, 
because you didn’t let me know where you were. How 
was I to know that no accident had befallen you? I 
was just thinking of calling up police headquarters to 
know if any accident had occurred in the city in the 
last few days.” 

At her words and concern for him, Granard grew 
graver. He was touched. 

“May I come this evening? Perhaps I can explain 
and you will not think too hard.” 

Yes, he could come. Helen had so soon forgotten 
her mother’s advice, but as he had stayed away three 
days, Mrs. Grant could have no objection then, surely. 

Granard would have returned on the next train that 
left Jacksonville after his arrival there, but as has 
been explained, on thinking it over he decided that 
perhaps it would be best to remain away for a day or 
so, for reasons. And to tell the truth, his better 
judgment told him that it would be best if he did not 
return at all, for he knew that the police were on the 
alert, andj would keep a close lookout for him, but he 
determined to run the risk of returning, for he must 
see a pair of blue eyes once more — the eyes that were 
ever before him, — hear the voice that transformed this 
sordid earth into a paradise. The three days away 
from her had seemed an eternity and yet he had dared 
not return earlier. 

When Helen turned ’round from the ’phone, Kate 
was there. 


62 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“Why, Helen you were pale when you went to the 
’phone — now your face is crimson. I know that was 
Mr. Granard. And now are you convinced that he 
has not been murdered?” 

Helen, whose spirits seemed to have returned with 
remarkable rapidity, answered that she was, adding, 
that Mr. Granard would be around that evening to 
explain himself for the way he had done. 

When he came that night, Helen was cordial, but 
her welcome did not seem quite as genuine as usual. 
Granard wondered, and was pained, but he was not long 
held in suspense, as to the cause of her unusual con- 
duct, for he very soon perceived what was wrong. 
Miss Helen was really hurt. He had not thought she 
would be. Such an idea had not occurred to him, but 
when she acknowledged being “hurt and angry,” he 
was all repentance. 

“I cried,” she confessed, with child-like simplicity. 

At her words, his heart began to swell and there was 
a lump about his throat. To have one grieve over 
his absence — to weep for him ! The tears were ready 
to start in his own eyes. A strange, insane, mad 
desire to snatch her in his arms — to take her to his 
heart and tell her how he regretted the tears swayed 
him. He grew dizzy with the thought of it, but his 
senses returning to him, he asked himself if he were 
not mad, to even permit the thought to enter his mind. 
It was here that the drawing-room door opened, and 
Mrs. Grant entering the room, announced some friends. 
She crossed the room quickly to greet Granard. 

“Why, Mr. Granard, where have you been? We’ve 
missed you so, and Helen has been very much con- 
cerned about your safety. She was afraid some 
harm had befallen you,” she said, and the guests en- 
tering here, Mrs. Grant presented Granard to them. 
They were some close friends who had come to spend 
the evening, and Mrs. Grant suggested a game for the 
evening’s amusement. It was a harmless and in- 
teresting game, and Granard remembered playing it 
at home when a lad. He played the game well and 
found no difficulty in progressing. Indeed, he played 
well from the first, and the conclusion of the game 
showed that he held the highest score. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


6 3 


“You have won the game, and must have the 
trophy,” Miss Dot Allgood, a young woman of about 
seventeen, and a cousin of Miss Grant, said, laughingly, 
and seeing nothing else handy* she took a 'photo of 
Miss Grant from the mantel and presented it to Gran- 
ard. He accepted it with thanks, and put it in his 
pocket, but presently, when the other guests were 
standing about the room talking, in groups, he went 
to the mantel, near which Miss Grant was standing, 
and placed it where it had been. Helen saw the act, 
and in low tones, she said : “The picture doesn't seem 
appreciated. This is twice you have wounded me in 
one week. You have high regard for my feelings.” 

Granard looked troubled. He took the picture and 
placed it in his pocket. 

“For a few days,” he thought. “There will be no 
harm.” 

Miss Grant had her ideas about giving young men 
her photograph, and they were very scrupulous ideas. 
She had refused a half dozen or more of her young 
men friends the gift within the last year. That they 
seemed eager to have the likeness in their possession, 
made little, if any, impression on her, but now to see a 
friend indifferent about owning her picture almost an- 
gered her. 

“He doesn't care for me, I’m sure, or he would want 
it,” she thought. 

When Granard left, the picture was in his pocket 
next his heart and his heart seemed to warm as he 
thought of it. The beloved picture would be comfort- 
ing somewhat in the absence of the original, he felt. 
He went straight from Miss Grant's to one of the 
leading hotels in the city for the night. It was quite 
a distance to Mrs. Walton's, and he was very tired. 
It was hardly a precarious thing to do, he thought for 
the detectives and police who had been so obliging as to 
look after him, doubtless thought he had left the city 
and would not be watching for him. The hotel was 
only a short distance away, and Granard reached it 
in a very few moments. He was shown to his room, 
and when he had closed the door he took the picture 
from his pocket, and putting it on the mantel, stood 
gazing at it in rapt silence. Then he stepped back 


64 


THE CONQUEROR. 


and viewed it from all points of the room and from 
each view point, it seemed to grow more charming 
and lovely. A lady's picture in Schaft, the crook's 
room ! Granard smiled. “How beautiful," he 
thought. A room needed no other furnishings for 
ornaments. The picture made it complete. “If this 
could only adorn my bed chamber for the rest of my 
years," he thought, “but it can never be," and he turned 
sadly away as if the sight of the pure, sweet face pain- 
ed him. “But I'm sure I shall sleep sweetly tonight 
with this in my room as my guardian angel," he added, 
but how he passed the night we shall see. 

It was unfortunate that he had selected this particu- 
lar hotel to stop overnight, for on going down to the 
lobby for a cigar before retiring, the first person he 
encountered was Wilkes, reclining in an easy chair, 
on the opposite side of the room, himself enjoying a 
smoke. It was Wilkes' regular boarding place. Gran- 
ard had just purchased the cigar, when the two men — 
himself and Wilkes — recognized each other. With 
that distance between them, he could escape by the 
side entrance door, he knew by leaving the place at 
once, but the lady's picture! He had left it on the 
mantel in his room, and to let it remain there would 
compromise Miss Grant. Granard could not get recon- 
ciled to the thought. The picture must not be left 
there, let the consequences be what they may. 

Turning quickly, he hurried out of the room, and 
back to his own apartments, fully aware of the fact 
that Wilkes was following him, but willing to run the 
risk for her sake, and, on reaching his room, he 
snatched the picture from the mantel and put it in his 
pocket. Then he quickly left the room. 

As Wilkes hurried to the end of the hall in pursuit 
of Schaft, he was just in time to see the figure of a 
man disappear through a side passage way. He fol- 
lowed the retreating figure, and on reaching the out- 
side, saw the man hurrying on, keeping closely in the 
shadows of the house. Wilkes followed noiselessly 
for some moments, quickening his pace and gaining on 
the fugitive at each step, until he was presently in 
arms reach of him, when he stepped up suddenly, 
and placed his hand on his shoulder. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


65 


“Consider yourself under arrest,” he said, exultant- 
ly. 

The prisoner made no resistance. 

“Caught at last !” Wilkes thought, and the vision of 
the $10,000 made his head swim. 

At his command to “walk on,” the prisoner obeyed 
submissively, and going to the nearest corner Wilkes 
took out his whistle to signal for a police wagon, 
when behold! The corner light revealed the face, not 
of Schaft — but a burglar. Some detectives would 
have been satisfied with this victory, but not Wilkes. 
He drew a deep breath of astonishment and uttered 
an oath which would not look very well in print. ITis 
disappointment was too keen to depict. He handed 
his prisoner over to a policeman standing near and 
hurried back to the hotel, but he wasi too late. Gran- 
ard was gone. 

When Granard left his room, with the picture safe- 
ly deposited in his pocket, he hurried out into the main 
hall, and as the elevator door was open, with no des- 
tination whatever in view, he stepped in and rode 
to the last story of the building. Here, he stepped 
out and looked around him helplessly. He knew he 
would be pursued, and there seemed no means for 
concealing himself, for all the room doors were closed, 
and there was no other opening, but presently he 
thought of the roof garden. There was a flight of 
steps at the end of the hall, and he mounted them, 
three at a time, until he reached the top, which led to 
the outside opening. He went to the edge, and looked 
over, down, to the dizzy heights below. A wild desire 
to throw himself over to the ground below took pos- 
session of him. He could end all this strife and these 
hardships in this way, and he was tired and weary of 
being hounded down, driven to the ends of the earth. 
Yes, he would end it all then — but the lady's picture! 
Here again it would compromise her. Granard began 
to reconsider. It would be a sacrilege to destroy it, 
and then, too, the words of the Bishop arrested him. 
He remembered his saying that no matter how rough 
the path, how hard the way, that life is worth living, if 
we are submissive, and in the end are rewarded with 
the promises that wonderful book he had been reading 


66 


THE CONQUEROR. 


contained. Could a suicide hope for this? Granard 
wondered. 

It was very cold and he was suffering acutely from 
neuralgia, but he made no complaint. He would stand 
any hardship now. With his change of views since 
the Bishop's sermon, life could not hold anything too 
hard for him to bear. He would fight it out bravely 
to the end, grateful for the chance to fight. Let ill 
fortune come- — if what the Bishop had said was true, 
he cared not. He sat down on the bare floor and lean- 
ed his aching head wearily against the wall. An hour 
or so passed and as the city clock struck twelve, he 
arose, his body cramped and aching from the exposure 
and his ppsition on the hard floor. It was with some 
degree of safety that he felt then that he could re- 
turn to his apartment for the night. Silently he crept 
down the stairs, one flight after the other, until he 
reached the room. Having paid for the room in ad- 
vance, he was certainly entitled to a night's rest. By 
sad mischance, however, Granard discovered to his 
horror that he was not in his own room, but a lady's 
boudoir. Granard was complacent enough, and sur- 
veyed the room in surprise, becoming interested in 
the many feminine articles it contained. There were 
several skirts about the room on chairs, for a toilet 
had evidently been made in haste, and Granard view- 
ed them with somewhat of wonder. He liked the 
sight somehow. He saw some deficiencies in the 
taste displayed in the furnishings of the room, how- 
ever, and was thinking of the changes he would make 
were the furnishing of that room left to him, when 
a step was heard on the stair. Granard quickly ex- 
tinguished the light, and finding no escape then, and 
no other place of refuge, darted under the bed. A 
moment later his nostrils were filled with the odor of 
a faint perfume, and he heard a rustling of silken 
skirts. A sweet feminine voice was humming a love 
song, the strains of which she had just caught at the 
opera. She seemed very light-hearted and happy. 

It was very nice to be in a lady's room Granard 
thought, but how naughty! How could he ever have 
been so careless ? The situation was very pleasant and 
novel, but it grew very embarrassing all at once. The 


THE CONQUEROR. 


67 


lady was undressing to go to bed. She took off laces 
after laces, and laid them on a chair nearby — and 
then she found something very lacy and was soon en- 
veloped in it’s soft folds. Then, she turned out the 
light and gave a little bound, jumping into bed. Her 
conscience must have been troubling her little, and 
responsibility resting lightly on her mind, for in no 
less than five minutes she was fast asleep. Here was 
the opportunity to leave, Granard thought, and rolling 
noiselessly out from under the bed, he crept silently 
across the room to the open door of the adjoining 
chamber. 

All would have gone well enough, and Granard would 
have gained the hall in safety an instant later, had not, 
by sad mischance, a chair have been out of its place 
into which Granard heedlessly ran, causing a slight 
commotion. The noise aroused the lady and in a 
moment she was out of bed. She had grabbed a dress- 
ing gown, and wrapping it about her, had hurried into 
the adjoining room to see what the disturbance could 
be, but she did not get into the room, before 
Granard had made his exit. Opening the door which 
led into the hall, the lady was relieved to see one of the 
guests at the farther end. She called to him for 
help, and the man turned 'round and ran quickly to 
her assistance. 

“A burglar!” the lady exclaimed, breathlessly. “Do 
find him, or I shall have hysterics.” 

She had turned on the lights and together they made 
a tour of the room, looking in every conceivable place 
in which a human could hide, but no burglar could be 
found. The lady suggested that they call for help, 
but Granard, who was very composed, for it was he, 
whom she was entertaining in her apartments, insisted 
that he thought she had no real cause for alarm, and 
that he could manage one man, and here he produced a 
revolver from his pocket, to prove that he was prepared 
for all such emergencies. And the lady was satis- 
fied, never suspecting that the burglar was standing 
before her very eyes, for she had thought, when she 
first saw him in the hall, that he was only one of the 
transient visitors in the hotel, but if she had known 
(10) 


68 


THE CONQUEROR. 


who her guest really was, there is no telling what 
might have occurred. 

“You’re nervous, or perhaps you were dreaming,” 
Granard suggested, which seemed to solve the prob- 
lem satisfactorily, for the lady agreed that she had 
been in a nervous state for some days, and this, no 
doubt, accounted for her troubled dreams. 

The lady, who it seemed w*as an actress, was all 
apologies for disturbing Granard, and causing alarm 
for nothing, insisted that he have a cup of tea with her 
as compensation for his trouble. Granard would have 
refused, considering her arrayment, but she seemed not 
at all embarrassed by her negligee costume, and would 
have Granard remain. 

“How romantic our meeting,” she thought. “This 
makes that stupid play tonight seem tame compared 
with such a situation.” 

Granard could not refuse an invitation accompanied 
by such an irresistable smile — and any way he craved 
the tea, chilled as he was to the bone, and he had been 
longing for something hot, and had almost prayed for 
it. Truly Providence was beginning to smile on 
Schaft. 

It was simply astonishing to Granard how quickly 
and gracefully tea could be made in a brass kettle on 
a crane over an alcohol flame, and how nice it could 
taste when served in dainty Satsuma cups, by a dainty 
lady and when he was cold. Granard never really 
appreciated the splendid flavor of tea before, and he 
told the lady so in that chaste manner of his, and in 
the well chosen words that were always on his tongue, 
and which seemed not only a gift, but an accomplish- 
ment with him. The actress was captivated, and 
when Granard said he must be leaving, as she must be 
very tired, his companion exclaimed, enthusiastically: 
“0, I am not at all tired, but you will come to see me 
tomorrow evening, I know, here in my private parlor, 
when I shall be more appropriately gowned for the 
occasion.” 

The pretty little actress did not catch his reply, but 
she was sure, of course, that he acquiesced, as was 
evident from the fact that the next evening she would 
permit no one of her many men admirers to call, but 


THE CONQUEROR. 


69 


gowned herself in her most fetching costume, and sat 
down to await Granard’s arrival, but he never made 
his appearance, and impatient though the little lady 
might be, by stamping her foot in displeasure, it was 
all of no avail, for she never saw her idol again. 
Granard had gone straight to his room — this time his 
room really. There was not but one other woman 
on earth whom he would have sat and talked to on this 
night, when he was so physically fatigued, and that 
woman was, no doubt, like a good girl at home, asleep 
in her bed, with never a thought of entertaining a 
gentleman at that hour in a kimona. Granard hoped 
so, at any rate, and he had every reason to believe it, 
for he had all faith — enough to remove mountains — 
in the one woman. Any other thought of her would 
have been a great shock to him. 

And so it came about that Schaft and Wilkes slept 
under the same roof that night, and probably in adjoin- 
ing rooms, who knows? Certainly there was a gentle- 
man occupant, for he disturbed Granard’s slumbers 
considerably by his loud and prolonged snoring. For 
four hours he slept soundly, but just before daybreak 
he arose and made his way to Mrs. Walton's, where he 
remained the entire day. 


70 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER V. 

It was several days before Granard had any other 
cause for alarm concerning his safety, but as he was 
going down one of the principal thoroughfares, in the 
suburbs of the city, he turned, for some reason, to 
look back of him, a feeling of uneasiness having taken 
possession of him, and detected that he was being 
followed by Wilkes, the detective. Granard became 
excited, for he could see no means of escape. Such a 
close place always put him to his wits. Then did he 
begin to realize his folly in venturing out again in 
day time. The detectives had not forgotten so soon, 
as Granard rather believed or hoped they had. It 
was risky, he knew, but he was so anxious to see the 
world by daylight again, that he could not resist the 
temptation to venture out in the open once more. 

Granard felt desperate, but a gleam of hope came to 
him, as the top of a circus tent loomed up before him, 
not a great distance away, and, as a drowning man 
will grasp at a straw, he hurried towards it, in hopes of 
there being lost in the crowd — but Wilkes was close 
behind. Granard knew, although he did not look 
'round again. When he reached the grounds, prepa- 
rations for the parade had begun. An idea occurred 
to Granard. As if by inspiration,! the thought came 
to him, and it was no sooner suggested to his mind, 
than he resolved, if possible, to put it into execution. 
He stepped quickly forward before one of the floats and 
took out his pocket-book, from which he brought forth 
a bill. A man was standing in uniform ready to 
mount his float to drive, and Granard displayed the 
bill before his wondering eyes. “This is yours," he 
said, “if you will let me wear your coat and drive in 
your place. I'm going to play a joke on some one." 

The man thought it was strange and certainly un- 
usual to see so well-dressed, handsome a man do such 
a thing as Granard suggested, but he was eager for 
a chance to make some extra money, and asked no 


THE CONQUEROR. 


71 


questions, and without waiting for further explana- 
tions, pulled a coat and hat similar to the one he him- 
self wore, from under the seat of the van and handed 
them to Granard. The coat was bright red, trim- 
med in gilt and new, and glittering brass buttons, with 
hat to match. “Dese is my pards,” he explained. 
“He was to wear ’em today for the first time, but he’s 
laid up with influenza. They’re right new.” 

Granard took the coat and hat and slipping off his 
own, quickly put the new apparel on, after which he 
put his own things under the seat of the van, where 
the others were taken from, and then mounted quickly 
to his place. But before taking his place, he had 
perceived that the float he was to drive, which was a 
huge iron cage, contained a lion and — incidentally, 
a woman, the lion’s tamer and mistress — in the cage 
together. But he did not have time to think much of 
this incident, for at this moment Wilkes appeared. 
He seemed excited and was searching faces eagerly 
among the crowd, but he did not look up to see the 
man on the float. Granard was immensely relieved, 
and amused also, at the situation. He felt very grate- 
ful for his place of refuge, but blushed to think of 
Miss Grant and of what she would say, if she knew. 
But she would not know — how should she? He was 
filled with a sense of shame at his position, undignified 
as it was, and yet the situation was not without its 
ludicrous side to him. He had a very keen sense of 
humor. To be driving in a circus parade and a wom- 
an and a lion. “The Lady and the Tiger,” or “The Lady 
of Lyons,” Granard named her, “Not a bad pun,” 
he thought. “I know Miss Grant would think so.” 

At last the parade started and Granard rode away, 
while the much dismayed Wilkes flew excitedly around 
in the crowd, in the hopes of finding Schaft. Gran- 
ard and his new friend rode majestically on and reach- 
ed the city without any incident of importance occur- 
ring until at a certain street corner in the central 
part of the city, the procession stopped suddenly, for 
some reason. Granard did not know, unless it was the 
fate that seemed to have been pursuing him unfail- 
ingly for many years, for, as it happened, Miss Grant 
and Miss Fielding were down town on a shopping expe- 


72 


THE CONQUEROR. 


dition, and as they heard the strains of music from an 
approaching band, they hurried to one of the windows 
in the shop where they were at the time, where they 
might view the spectacle as it passed, for Miss Grant 
was human and wanted to see this splendid pageantry 
which was advertised so extensively and alluringly, 
as “the most gorgeous spectacle on the continent.” 

“I always feel that my childhood has not quite yet 
lost its identity when I hear the band in a circus pa- 
rade,” Helen said to Kate. They were standing there 
at the window when the procession stopped, and Helen 
suddenly turned pale, for Granard had happened to 
glance up at the same time and had seen Miss Grant, 
too, looking at him. He turned scarlet — she white. 

“Kate, I do believe that is Mr. Granard,” Helen 
whispered breathlessly, but the procession had start- 
ed to move again, and Kate could not tell. She 
laughed at Helen's misgivings, for such a thing was 
of course, incredible. 

“Helen, you must be touched or else you have it 
bad. You imagine you see Mr. Granard everywhere 
you look,” she said, teasingly. “I dare say if you 
looked up in the clouds now, you'd see his face there.” 

Helen laughed, and said she was silly, she knew, but 
the impression was with her nevertheless. 

“I believe it was he — I believe it was he.” The 
thought kept haunting her all day. “And he was 
driving a woman !” 

Helen was struck with the fact that the woman 
was handsome, and of fine figure, and the more she 
thought of it — the degradation and all — his stooping 
to this, the more she was perplexed and — then the 
woman. The woman began to trouble her more than 
the offense of driving her. She had almost forgiven 
him driving the float, but she could not forgive the 
woman in the float. The crime of being connected 
with a circus, suddenly paled into insignificance to 
the fact that he was driving a woman — and handsome 
and of fine figure at that. 

Helen remained alone in her room all the afternoon 
until about dusk, when her mother went in to find her 

in tears. “Crying Helen? Tell me ” But Helen 

would not confide for the first time in her life. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


73 


“Well, I will not insist,” Mrs. Grant thought. “A 
mother has no right to demand an explanation of all 
her daughter’s moods, but I know something has gone 
wrong with her and Mr. Granard,” she thought. Mrs. 
Grant leaned forward and kissed her daughter fondly 
on the cheek. The act seemed to have had a good 
effect, for Helen brushed the tears away and was smil- 
ing again. “I suppose I am foolish. Of course that 
was not Mr. Granard,” she thought, but try as she 
would to dismiss the presentment from her mind, 
she could not. 

“When he comes tonight I will not see him,” she 
resolved, and then Helen picked up a book, in which 
she tried to become interested, but this was a very 
difficult task, indeed to do, for it was impossible for 
her to keep up with the thread of the story with her 
brain in such a whirl. 

When Granard stood at the door of the Grant resi- 
dence that night, his heart was scarcely beating. He 
would know then whether Miss Grant had recognized 
him or not, for, in the event that she had, she would, 
of course not see him, and the thought had given him 
no peace of mind all the afternoon. But Mrs. Grant 
met him at the door and welcomed him in her usual 
cordial manner, and then she went immediately to 
Helen with the announcement that Mr. Granard was 
waiting for her in the drawing room. But what was 
her surprise when Helen answered coolly: “Tell him 
I’m ill, mother, and cannot see him.” Helen’s face 
was the picture of despair. 

“But you are not ill, my dear, and that would be 
telling an untruth, and I have always had such confi- 
dence in your veracity. Don’t you think it would 
be wrong to tell a deliberate falsehood?” 

Helen’s face lighted, as she looked up quickly, and 
said : “Er — yes, mother, I do and I will see Mr. Gran- 
ard.” 

Mrs. Grant smiled down at her her approval, and laid 
her hand on her head lovingly. “That is right. We 
have to do many things in life that we don’t always 
care to, for the sake of truth, but I have always no- 
ticed that things usually turn out right, if we do.’” 

With this bit of motherly counsel, Mrs. Grant re- 


74 


THE CONQUEROR. 


turned to her own room, where she sat alone, brood- 
ing over the possibilities of the future. “Well, I sup- 
pose all mothers have to give the: 1 " daughters up and 
have to become reconciled sooner or later to this 
knowledge, but Helen’s marriage is something I had 
never thought much of somehow. She has been such a 
companion to me. For some reason, I had counted 
on having her with me always, and I have made vari- 
ous plans for her future, but there was no marriage in 
it.” 

Tears had gathered in her eyes, but she brushed 
them away bravely. “To bear, to nurse, to rear. To 
love and then to lose,” she quoted. “How wise the 
poet was when she expressed that sentiment, but it is 
the fate of most mothers, so what right have I to hope 
to be the exception? Helen’s life must be for her 
own happiness — not a sacrifice to a selfish mother. I 
am convinced though now that she is in love, for she 
would never have been guilty of a falsehood for a mere 
whim. I know her too well.” 

Whether Helen would have been shocked or even 
surprised at the thoughts which her mother was en- 
tertaining in regard to her and Granard, cannot be 
said, or at least it will remain to be found out later 
perhaps, but it is certain that she was very carefully 
and becomingly gowned on this evening, whether she 
intended sending Granard away without seeing him 
or not, which seems rather odd, considering the fact 
that she had remained in her room alone for the en- 
tire afternoon. 

When Mrs. Grant had left her, Helen arose to put a 
few finishing touches to her toilet, about which she was 
very particular, and hoping faintly the while that she 
had done Granard an injustice in supposing that he 
could be connected with the circus — or the woman, but 
Granard knew, if Miss Grant did not, that he was 
“connected with the circus,” in a way and, moreover, 
that he had an interview with “the woman.” At 
the conclusion of the parade, he had dismounted from 
the float on his return to the show grounds and the 
first person he beheld was the woman he had been 
driving. She was Madame Blavelt, the famous lion- 
tamer, and was strikingly handsome. She smiled 


THE CONQUEROR. 


75 


sweetly at Granard, as she looked up at him and spoke 
to him in tones that if not refined and musical, had 
a certain and enticing charm. It was a mere “good- 
morning” — a greeting, but she added, as she gave him 
a most captivating glance, “come with me,” and Gra- 
nard followed, merely because he didn't know exact- 
ly how to refuse the request. 

“He is the handsomest man I ever saw,” Madame 
thought. “I can't let him escape. Blavelt usually 
has her way with men,” and she smiled complacently, 
as she thought of her past experiences. 

Madame led the way to an opening in the huge tent 
and drew back a curtain. “Come in,” she said, 
holding the curtains back invitingly. “It will be 
two hours before the performance begins. These are 
my apartments and we can be alone. No one dares 
enter here without my permission.” 

She spoke with an air of pride and commandingly, as 
if she knew her own worth, and was accustomed to 
being obeyed, for Madame was one of the main fea- 
tures of the show and being well acquainted with her 
temper, no one dared anger her for fear of conse- 
quences — a refusal from Madame to perform. “To 
humor her, the “apartment” was given her as her 
own, and all the employees understood that it was 
hers and not to be molested without Madame's ap- 
proval. It was rather daintily fitted out, for Mad- 
ame was fastidious, and must have some luxuries, even 
in so' transient an abode. 

To humor the lady, Granard stepped just inside the 
apartment, but at her invitation to be seated, he de- 
clined and bowed himself out of the room and her 
presence. He was thinking of Miss Helen and was 
already miserable enough in the belief that she had 
seen and recognized him and if he were to accept this 
invitation and she learn of it, too, as was possible, if 
not probable, what would she think of him, then? It 
was top great a risk to run, even had he had a desire 
to remain, which, to do Granard justice, it must be ex- 
plained that he had not. At his refusal to accept her 
hospitality, Madame stamped her foot in displeasure. 
Men did not often treat her with contempt. 

“Saint and devil!” she exclaimed, under her breath. 

(H) 


76 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“Is this man an escape from the asylum? He joins our 
circus and then insults the leading lady on first ac- 
quaintance. That is poor policy if he only knew. I 
will see that he does not keep his position as my coach- 
man. I will have him dismissed. I can’t tolerate indif- 
ference. It is the unpardonable sin with me. But, 
oh, he is so handsome! No, I will not have him dis- 
missed,” she declared to herself, repenting the thought 
at once. “He will come back to me yet,” and she await- 
ed eagerly his return, but Granard never made his ap- 
pearance in the presence of Madame Blavelt again. But 
Miss Grant did not know of the incident, and it was 
just as well perhaps that she did not. 

Granard’s heart beat normally again when he ob- 
served that Miss Grant was her usual self as she en- 
tered the drawing room, or at least apparently so. She 
sat down near him, but was somewhat at a loss to know 
just what to say at first, for he did not seem inclined 
to talk, either. Presently, however, she looked up at 
him and asked blandly: “Where— have — you — been — 
today ? Did you — attend — the circus matinee, Mr. 
Granard ?” 

Miss Grant had made up her mind to satisfy herself 
on this point at once, and then, oh, well — never — see — 
him — again, if she were convinced that what she had 
suspected were true, for of course if he was connected 
with the circus he had remained for the matinee. But 
Granard answered “no” so promptly and emphatically 
that his statement was quite convincing. 

“0,” Miss Grant exclaimed in purest joy. “Then it 
was not he, of course,” she thought. “I knew that 
other man’s moustache was not so black as Mr. Gra- 
nard’s, nor his eyes as soft and dark. Such an injus- 
tice, but I might have known that I was mistaken. I’ve 
seen several men today who reminded me of Mr. Gra- 
nard.” 

Miss Grant did not doubt for an instant the truth of 
his statement. She could depend on her friend’s word, 
she knew. Miss Grant would not entertain a gentleman 
in her parlor whose veracity she questioned, or whom 
she could not trust entirely for the truth. So Granard 
was not only pardoned, but in her heart she was beg- 
ging forgiveness for the great injustice she had done 


THE CONQUEROR. 


77 


him. “If he only knew I had doubted him, he would 
never care for me again. But I’m not going to tell him. 
One should always stick to the truth, as mother says, 
but it is not necessary always to tell everything one 
knows.” Miss Grant could not refrain from breaking 
into a laugh. 

“Mr. Granard,” she said, evidently very much amused, 
“I have a big joke to tell you, and some time — well, I 
don’t know just when; but some time I’m going to tell 
you and see what you will say.” 

Granard did not insist particularly on knowing what 
the joke was, but had he dared utter his thoughts, 
he would have said, “Well, my darling Miss Helen, I 
know what that joke is. You thought you saw me in 
the parade today — and you did.” But to Miss Grant 
he said, “Won’t you tell me what the joke is now?” 

“No, I will wait until later. You will enjoy it the 
more for waiting.” 

“But you had better tell me now.” Granard rather 
insisted, “for I am thinking of going away tomorrow.” 

Miss Grant was holding a book in her hand — one she 
had selected for him to take home with him to read. It 
fell suddenly to the floor. 

“Going away?” she cried astonished. “Mr Gran- 
ard what are you saying? You are not. I mean — 
that is — are you really?” she stammered. 

“Yes, my business matters may be such that I will 
have to leave the city,” he answered slowly, thought- 
fully. Why did Miss Grant feel so down-hearted, when 
only an hour or so earlier she had decided to dismiss 
Granard, or, rather, let him know that it was her wish 
never to see him again? Was she so changeable, un- 
stable as this? Granard’s announcement of his inten- 
tion to leave would spare her the embarrassment of 
dismissing him and yet when he sat there and coolly 
announced as if it were nothing that he was going 
away, Miss Grant was strangely aware that she was be- 
coming unhappy and when she had already made up 
her mind as soon as Mr. Granard told her that he had 
not attended the matinee, that she would not intimate 
that his presence was no longer desired. 

“I am not quite certain whether I shall go or 
not,” he added, after a short silence, in which both he 


78 


THE CONQUEROR. 


and his companion seemed deeply absorbed in thought. 
“It may turn out that I can prolong my stay for awhile 
at least.” 

Miss Grant looked up hopefully. Evidently her mind 
was relieved of some great burden from the change of 
expression as Granard saw it on the sweet face. 

“0, I do hope so,” she said sweetly. “Will you 
let me know tomorrow what you intend doing ? I was 
going to have some friends around then to meet you, 
and I want to know. I suppose if you decide to go, 
you will come around and say good-bye to me?” 

Would he? He would risk all the dangers the world 
offered to see her again, even in the pain of saying 
farewell. And would he not be ungrateful not to 
come and express his appreciation for her kindness to 
him, her generosity in even allowing him the privilege 
of looking on her face and into her blue eyes? Could 
he ever forget those eyes? The clear, sweet expres- 
sion would linger with him to his dying day if he lived 
to an old age. Yes, he would certainly come to say 
good-bye, heart-rending as the experience would be to 
him, and he satisfied Miss Grant on this subject before 
leaving that evening, adding earnestly and in more se- 
rious tones than Helen had ever heard him use before, 
“but I had much rather be with you alone than to meet 
the friends.” 

“Very well, then, if you prefer,” Helen replied, her 
eyes dropping to the floor. “I have not invited them 
yet, and we can spend the evening alone,” which ar- 
rangement accounted for Granard’s presence in the 
Grant homestead promptly at the appointed hour on 
the evening following. Granard had told Miss Grant 
that he was going away not to deceive her, for it was 
really his intention to go, but for another reason. He 
was sure she had suspected him as a participant in the 
parade, and he was equally as sure that she would 
never care to see him again and, becoming discouraged, 
he had conclude 1 that it would be best, all things con- 
sidered to leave the city at once. However, as she 
seemed to have forgiven him his role as coachman to 
“The Lady of Lions,” he concluded suddenly, and very 
suddenly, that he would let her know positively next 
day that he had decided to remain awhile longer. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


79 


CHAPTER VL 

“God has given us a perfect day,” Helen thought, 
as dressed for an afternoons outing, she stood at her 
front door looking out, while she drew on her gloves. 
“Not a cloud in the sky — the sun is shining brilliantly — 
it is just cool enough to be pleasant. And the birds 
appreciate it, for they are singing their appreciation.” 

A moment later Helen entered her carriage, which 
was waiting at the door and gave orders to Thomas, 
the coachman, to drive to the factory settlement. 
Thomas knew just where the settlement was without 
any explicit direction. He had driven her there too 
often not to know. It had been her custom for some 
time to go each week to this part of the city distrib- 
uting necessaries contributed by the Associated Chari- 
ties, and when these funds gave out, which was very 
often the case, Miss Grant drew on her own bank ac- 
count that the deficience^ might be filled. She made 
a list of everything that was needed, going from house 
to house, handing out these necessaries as she thought 
best. 

She had been assigned to this particular part of the 
city to attend to these duties, while other young ladies, 
whom she had influenced to become interested in the 
work, took other territories in the different wards, and 
in this way no one was neglected. And that Miss 
Grant was appreciated and loved by these poor unfor- 
tunates there was not the shadow of a doubt. Little 
children would run to meet her when they saw her com- 
ing, and mothers, whose faces had not worn a smile 
in days, would brighten up at the mere mention of her 
name, and poor Mrs. Owen, who had not seen the sun- 
light in many years, but sat in darkness, day by day, 
engaged in her basket-making — a trade she had been 
taught at a blind asylum — was never so happy as on 
days when “Miss Helen” came, for she brought about 
the only rays of sunshine into the life of this poor, 


80 


THE CONQUEROR. 


lonely, sightless old woman that she had known in 
years. Miss Helen not only encouraged Mrs. Owen in 
her basket-making, but brought her many orders from 
her friends for the crude, but useful articles, and saw 
that she disposed of all her stock as fast as they could 
be made, which enterprise finally netted Mrs. Owen a 
rather neat little bank account of her own. 

Then there was Mrs. Ellington, a little delicate, pale 
woman, the mother of several small children, who had 
not left her bed for a year, but lay staring daily at the 
cheerless walls, or out of the open window into a bar- 
ren, ill-kept back yard. But the walls were not always 
to be cheerless, or the back yard barren, for “Miss 
Helen” had taken in the situation and a pretty, bright, 
if not very expensive wall papering had been put on the 
walls and several pictures were hung opposite the in- 
valid's bed, which, if not in oils or water-colors, were 
at least attractive. 

“If I can have my own bed room done over again, 
simply because I don't like the tones, when it has not 
been a year since the walls were tinted, I can surely 
spare enough out of my income to make these walls 
look brighter and more cheerful for this poor, helpless 
little creature, who has to lie here all day with nothing 
to look at but those bleak looking boards. It would give 
me nervous prostration — the sight of them, and I don’t 
know but it would be a relief to me to be like poor Mrs. 
Owen, blind. And I can surely spare a few flowers from 
our conservatory. Mother will be glad, I am sure, and 
even little Rose Mary will let me have some of her 
plants for a little flower bed out in the yard by Mrs. 
Ellington's windows, where she can lie and look at it, 
instead of that gloomy looking barren acreage. The 
sight must be very depressing to her.” 

The idea was no sooner thought of than put into ex- 
ecution, and Mrs. Ellington used to lie and look at the 
flower bed until she declared she could see the flowers 
growing. 

“I've named that pretty rose in the middle, for you 
Miss Helen,” Mrs. Ellington said one day, “for I never 
look at it that it does not remind me of you. And I 
love that rose, but not like you, Miss Helen. It can 
look pretty, but it can't speak to me and smile at me 


THE CONQUEROR. 


81 


like you can. Miss Helen, I'd be very rebellious if it 
wasn't for your coming every week. I lie here day in 
and day out, with not a soul to talk to, but Mrs. Owen, 
who comes when she can get any one to bring her, and 
sometimes I get so wild with despair that I could kill 
myself for my fate in having to lie here in my condi- 
tion, so helpless, until you come, when I am filled with 
shame to think of my many blessings, and am remind- 
ed by your presence that my God has not entirely for- 
saken me." 

Miss Grant's eyes filled with tears. “If I am a com- 
fort to you, Mrs. Ellington, I am so glad, but you must 
not ever get rebellious when I am away, for the doctor 
says you’re improving, and I do believe ther're roses in 
your cheeks," and Miss Grant insisted on getting the 
hand glass that she might see for herself that she 
was not deceiving her. And what she said was true, 
for under her gentle care, with the delicacies she sent 
Mrs. Ellington daily to eat, many of which she pre- 
pared at home with her own hands, and with the faith- 
ful care, also, of the Grant's family physician, whom 
Miss Grant had sent, with the instructions to send 
the bill to her — Miss Grant — which the good doctor 
would never do — Mrs. Ellington began to improve won- 
derfully, so that she was finally able to sit up in bed 
and eventually walk about the room. Then a complete 
cure was effected, as if by a miracle, and Mrs. Ellington 
was well again, taking up her daily tasks, and looking 
after her children as she once had done. 

These were only a few instances of the good Miss 
Grant did in that locality and no wonder her name was 
revered as that of a saint, and that she was literally 
worshipped by all those whose comforts she looked 
after so carefully and with such faithful, unfailing reg- 
ularity. Mrs. Ellington's was the last house Miss 
Grant visited on her rounds in the settlement, and she 
had just left her door and was stepping into her car- 
riage, when she looked up and to her surprise saw 
Mr. Granard not a great distance away, coming down 
the street. Granard saw her and came forward rath- 
er hastily. Had she known, he himself was in dis- 
tress just at that moment, for he was being followed 
by a man whom he recognized as being a detective 


82 


THE CONQUEROR. 


from another city, at which he had recently been stay- 
ing, and he was aware also that the detective had recog- 
nized him. Granard stopped at the carriage door, and 
Miss Grant offered him her hand. 

“If you are going back to the city, come with me,” 
she said cordially. 

Granard willingly accepted the invitation, and then, 
before the detective’s astonished eyes, stepped into the 
carriage, when they were driven rapidly away. 

“This woman is in the conspiracy helping Schaft 
out,” the detective concluded, whereupon he mounted 
his bicycle and followed only a short distance behind 

them. Seeing a policeman on the street, the detec- 
tive stopped long enough to ask, for he was a stranger 
in the city, “who is that woman in the carriage ?” and 

then, without awaiting a reply, he added hurriedly and 
excitedly, “I believe that is Schaft in there with her, 
and she is helping him to escape. Adventuress! But 
she’s handsome enough. By Jove!” 

At his declaration, the policeman who knew “Miss 
Helen” by sight, so well, for he had seen her often in 
the settlement, laughed outright. “Man, you’re a fool, 
if you think you’re on track of Schaft there. That is 
Miss Helen Grant — one of the best women in our city. 
She is known as The angel,’ in the poorer classes, and 
that is not Schaft, you may be sure, or he would not be 
with Miss Helen.” 

The detective was convinced then that he was on the 
wrong track, and had to laugh at his own error. He 
was disappointed nevertheless, and astounded at his 
own stupidity. “Well, I’m hanged if this ain’t a fool’s 
errand. I’ll go back to Memphis on the next train. 
Here I’ve been chasing that fellow around for the last 
six weeks for Schaft and he turns out a respectable citi- 
zen riding around with 'an angel.’ Precious good time 
I’ve lost on the guy,” and he thought, as he turned 
away, regretfully, of the $11,000 reward. 

“What were you doing out here on this back street, 
at this hour, Mr. Granard?” Miss Grant asked won- 
deringly. 

Granard admitted that he had a great curiosity to 
visit the settlement where she had been doing so much 
good work. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


83 


“ O , I am so pleased that you are that much interest- 
ed,” she answered smilingly, and she was perfectly 
sincere in her statement, for nothing gratified her quite 
so much as any interest shown in either of her two 
hobbies — the settlement work or the proposed girls' 
home — a home she was planning to have constructed as 
a refuge for girls who were thrown on their own respon- 
sibility and who had no home they could call their own. 
There were many girls in the city who were unable to 
work and many, too, who toiled all day, year in and 
year out, who scarcely earned enough wages to eke out 
an existence, which circumstances often made girls go 
astray, so realizing the need of such a home, Miss Grant 
had planned the institution for them. 

They rode on together and Miss Grant bright, buoy- 
ant and happy, talked on in her own inimitable sweet 
way, always so attractive to Granard and all unmind- 
ful of the fact of being the temporary guardian angel of 
her companion. 

“I am on my way to my cousin's, Miss Nelson's,” she 
explained, presently, when the subject of missions had 
been dropped. “She is having tea this afternoon, and 
1 promised to drop in and won't you go with me? 
These affairs are very informal, and we are always 
privileged to bring a gentleman friend, if we wish. 
This comes in very nicely, doesn’t it, my meeting you ? 
0, don’t say you can’t now, for you just told me, only 
a moment ago, that you had nothing to do this after- 
noon, and you can’t say you are not properly groomed. 
You don’t need a Tuxedo for such an informal occasion, 
as you know.” 

What could Granard say? What excuse offer? 
Come muse, come with some kindly suggestion for a way 
out of the dilemma, but muse refused to respond to 
his request, for nothing plausible would suggest itself 
as a means for a refusal without wounding a certain 
lady's feelings, and this would never do — anything but 
this. Granard had about concluded that it was easier 
to evade the police than to ignore a woman's wishes. 
He was wisely submissive, and was “delighted at the 
opportunity of being with her,” he said. The prospect 
did seem delightful, indeed, and, after considering, to be 
among a gathering of women was about as safe a place 
( 12 ) 


84 


THE CONQUEROR. 


as he could well find, Granard thought, and he was 
pacified. 

“If I see Wilkes, I’ll get behind Miss Grant’s skirts. 
She will let me, I know.” But Granard did not see 
Wilkes, and there was no occasion for Miss Grant’s 
skirts, so far as Wilkes was concerned, at least. 

On arriving at Miss Nelson’s, a brilliant scene met 
Granard’s eyes. It was an al-fresco occasion and the 
exquisitely gowned women lolling about the commodi- 
ous, well-kept lawn and among the roses and foliage 
and fountains, made a picture that would have ap- 
pealed to and impressed the most careless observer. 
Granard was fascinated, and the swish of silk skirts 
and odor of rare perfume, intoxicated him. It was 
all like a beautiful dream — but he had not been there 
live minutes, when the beautiful dream was changed 
to a dreadful realization, for he had caught sighc in the 
crowd of the face of an old acquaintance, which brought 
to mind memories of Jacques and other companions. 
He turned pale as he saw the man whom he had recog- 
nized coming towards him, but his fears were) without 
foundation, it proved, for the man, who was young and 
handsome and evidently a favorite among the ladies, 
came forward and with a smile of genuine welcome in 
his eyes, cordially offered Granard his hand. 

The greeting almost took Granard off his feet, but 
it is hardly necessary to explain that Granard did not 
treat him coldly. The warm welcome was quite mu- 
tual — both were charmed at meeting again, and Mr. 
Reginald Matthewson’s greeting — for it was he — served 
to make quite a favorable impression on the ladies 
present, and the fact that Granard knew Matthewson 
seemed recommendation enough, had they not been 
satisfied at the introduction of a strange man from a 
lady friend. The greeting was cordial and genuine 
enough, but instantly to each came a mental vision^ of 
a gambling den in a distant city on an occasion some 
time passed. Matthewson had not so soon forgotten 
the time when in his younger days while wild oats were 
being sown, he had been lured into the gambling hell 
by a companion, and of how he only escaped being 
locked up in prison by the mere good fortune of Gran- 
ard’s presence. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


85 


His companion had gambled with him and lost heav- 
ily and being under the influence of an intoxicant, the 
companion became angry and a fight ensued. A police- 
man appeared on the scene, and, not knowing all the 
circumstances connected with the disturbance, had 
concluded that Matthewson was to blame for the affair, 
and, putting him under arrest, would have taken him to 
prison, had not Granard who had witnessed the whole 
affair and had seen the injustice of it all, in a moment of 
generosity, come to his assistance and put up bond for 
the unfortunate young fellow, who, himself had not a 
cent left after the evening’s reveling, and although a 
complete stranger for Granard had never seen him 
before, he — Granard — furnished his transportation 
home, which Matthewson’s father promptly returned 
to Granard by mail. Matthewson was not aware that 
the man was suspected as Schaft. Had he been, it is 
doubtful as to whether he would have exposed him or 
not. He was not the kind to soon forget a kindness, 
and the fact that a man had once gambled was no rea- 
son that he could not turn out a gentleman later in life, 
if he had reformed, and Granard surely must have, or 
he would not be an escort of the immaculate Miss Helen 
Grant. So Matthewson was inclined to forget the oc- 
casion. Granard himself recalled it. “In Paris it 
was, that is New York,” he quoted smilingly, and Gran- 
ard saw that there was no need for any further hint of 
a remembrance of the occasion, for Matthewson looked 
up in an instant, and the two exchanged glances and 
smiles. 

“How mysterious they talk and look. One would 
naturally think they had had quite a lark some where 
some time in their lives, and I imagine it did not take 
place at a charity ball,” one of the ladies said, laugh- 
ingly, and in mild tones of disapproval. 

“Nor in a monastery,” another suggested. 

Granard and Matthewson laughed and, thinking it 
wise, dropped the subject at once. 

It was quite late before the party broke up, but Gran- 
ard had not been bored a moment. On the other hand, 
he had enjoyed every moment of the affair, for the 
novelty of it all, if not for the fact that Miss Grant 
was present and he could look at her as often as he 


86 


THE CONQUEROR. 


chose. After farewells to the hostess, Miss Grant and 
Granard found their way to the carriage again, which 
was in waiting. 

“Home,” Miss Grant said to the coachman, in that 
tone of voice that even the servants had learned to love, 
“and drive quickly, Thomas, for it is getting late.” 

Miss Nelson’s home was several miles from the cen- 
tral part of the city, being located in a very select sub- 
urb and it was one of the most palatial' residences in 
that locality, being known as the Nelson “palace.” 

“I hope you enjoyed the afternoon, Mr. Granard, and 
— ” the shrill whistle of an approaching train was 
heard. 

“0, these horses are afraid of a train,” Miss Grant 
gasped, clutching Granard’s arm instinctively for pro- 
tection. 

It had grown quite dark now, and it was impossible 
to see just how far the track which they were to 
cross lay from them. The carriage lights were inade- 
quate for this. But Miss Grant had hardly spoken the 
words before the horses started wildly and the next 
instant they were rushing madly down the road, clear- 
ing the track just an instant before the locomotive, 
which was running at a high rate of speed, passed. By 
this time the horses were frantic, and Miss Grant knew 
as well as Thomas that he had no more control over 
them then than if they had been wild beasts. All 
he could do was to hold the lines and keep his position 
in the carriage. 

They were still some distance from home and the 
road through which they were passing which shorten- 
ed the distance somewhat, was quite deserted and the 
horses plunged on, swaying from side to side, while 
every instant it seemed the carriage must surely be 
overturned. Miss Grant still grasped Granard’s arm 
and was clutching it tightly, but presently her hold 
gave way and she would have fallen out of the open 
carriage to the ground had Granard not caught her. 
She had fainted from fright and was perfectly helpless 
now. Realizing this, Granard knew that it must rest 
with him whether her life were saved or not, and he 
held her firmly in his arms until the horses should be 
brought under control, if they ever were. It was with 


THE CONQUEROR. 


87 


greatest difficulty that he managed to keep his own 
position in the carriage and at the same time keep 
Miss Grant from falling to the ground, and the horses 
giving a sudden plunge, brought Thomas, the coach- 
man to the ground, but strange to say, the horses im- 
mediately slackened their gait somewhat, if ever so 
slightly. Had it occurred to them that there was 
precious freight in that carriage and that they had 
done harm enough in causing Thomas to fall, if it did 
turn out that Thomas was more frightened than in- 
jured? 

But the occupants of the carriage were still not out 
of danger, however, there seemed some hope of escap- 
ing with their lives, if the horses were driverless, if 
only some one in passing would stop the horses in their 
flight. Fully five minutes passed with the horses 
driverless and Granard, who still held Miss Grant in 
his arms, was becoming intoxicated with the joy the 
realization of it gave him, in spite of the danger in 
which both their lives were. He would give his right 
hand, his life, he felt to kiss the upturned face — the 
lips, the eyes, the hair and yet he would have given 
his right hand, his life before taking the advantage, 
but he thought as he gazed dowrn on that beautiful 
countenance, so pure, so innocent, so saint-like, “Ah, 
God! If I were only worthy. But a murderer! — not 
worthy to look down at her — to breathe her name.” 

Miss Grant had regained consciousness but she did 
not open her eyes trying for a moment to recall where 
she could be — what could be happening. Then she 
was conscious of the presence of Granard. His face 
w r as close to hers and she could feel his breathing on 
her cheek. Taking in the situation it all dawning on 
her suddenly as it did, she lay perfectly still without 
opening her eyes and showing no signs of a return of 
consciousness, for Granard must not know, for reasons. 
It would be useless anyway, she realized to attempt to 
disengage herself from his clasp, for without his as- 
sistance she would surely be thrown from the carriage 
to the ground and it would probably mean serious in- 
i' uries, if not death. She must know the character of 
man Granard was and this would be the opportunity, 
for he must realize that he could take an advantage 


88 


THE CONQUEROR. 


easily and she was waiting to see if he would — this 
stranger whom she might have doubted, not knowing 
of a certainty who he was, but in whom she felt the 
deepest interest, neverthelesss — if he took any liber- 
ties, it would determine it. She would dismiss him 
forever — never see him again. It was the test — the 
crucial moment. She lay quite still hardly daring to 
breathe, hoping, almost praying. Then as a moment 
passed, her heart began beating freely again. “God 
save us — her. If I can die to save her let me,” Gran- 
ard prayed half aloud and as the prayer was breathed 
in all sincerity, she knew then that his thoughts were 
too pure to be questioned and she opened her eyes. 
The horses began to slacken their pace perceptibly and 
suddenly came to a stand-still. They escaped unin- 
jured and the remainder of the drive home was made 
in perfect safety. Miss Grant had resumed her seat 
in the carriage and Granard occupied Thomas's place 
and a few moments later he turned her over to her 
mother very much flushed and excited, but bodily un- 
harmed. 

Mrs. Grant was the personification of gratitude for 
the noble deed Mr. Granard had done in saving the 
life which was as her own to her. She declared that 
it was an especial act of providence that he had gone 
with Helen, for otherwise she would have been surely 
killed. 

“We are under undying obligations to you now, Mr. 
Granard and I only hope we may be able to prove to 
you some time that we appreciate it greatly. If some 
other man had been in your place, there is the possi- 
bility that he would have jumped out of the carriage 
to save his own life and left Helen to her fate, but 
you have proven your bravery and courage, and now 
Helen and I can never forget it.” 

“Yes, he has proven his bravery and courage mother, 
and I certainly shall never forget,” and she glanced 
quickly up at Granard to see if she could guess wheth- 
er or not he knew the real meaning of her words, or 
if he took them in the same sense that her mother 
had spoken them. 

Granard smiled and looked her full in the eyes. 

“We are under everlasting obligations to you,” Mr. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


89 


Granard,” Helen said again, as he turned to leave and 
whether Granard understood the true meaning of her 
words, Helen could not positively say. She would 
have given anything to be sure — but she strongly sus- 
pected he did understand and that he strongly suspect- 
ed that she had her opinion on the subject. At any 
rate Granard was glad he had saved Miss Helen’s life 
— very glad, although he failed to see where the he- 
roic act came in, for it required no real bravery or 
courage to hold her in the carriage, but it was a great 
satisfaction to him to know that he had displayed a 
shade of bravery and courage in resisting a temptation 
that impelled him more strongly than any other temp- 
tation of his life, and that Miss Helen was pleased at 
this was all the compensation Granard asked for being' 
the hero of the afternoon and saving her life. There 
is no satisfaction like the satisfaction of a clean con- 
science. Granard knew this as well as any one. 


90 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER VII. 

For convenience of the occasion Granard had found 
new Quarters temporarily. He had his reasons for 
thinking it best to remain away a day or two from 
Mrs. Walton's and as the door of an unused and very 
much dilapidated tenement house stood invitingly 
open to him, as he was passing down a rather de- 
serted, quiet back street, he thought it a good oppor- 
tunity to enter the building and read the book he had 
in his pocket which Miss Grant had loaned him, 
for here he would be undisturbed, as a death-like quiet 
prevailed about the place. And as soon as he entered, 
Granard was aware, as he made his way up the flights 
of rickety stairs to the third and last story, that he 
was its only occupant. 

“I am monarch of all I survey," he thought, as he 
turned the knob to one of the doors and entered the 
room in as proprietary manner as if he had been there 
often and owned the place. The room was vacant ex- 
cept for an empty wooden box, the kind used for mer- 
cantile purposes and after closing the door, Granard 
drew the box over near the window and settled him- 
self down to read. It was then about eleven o'clock 
in the morning, and that the book interested him, was 
shown by the fact that he forgot all about the lunch 
hour, as he read absorbedly on, pouring over the words 
of Browning, as he thought with a keen appreciation of 
what a clear conception she had of the best there is in 
life. 

When a man forgets to lunch, it is strong proof of be- 
ing interested in something, but Granard had often 
declared that “he had rather read than eat," and on 
this occasion he proved that he was sincere in the 
statement. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon 
when he put the book aside for a moment and on 
glancing down on the street below, he saw a man 
shabbily dressed and rather decrepit looking coming 
slowly in the direction of the tenement and walking 


THE CONQUEROR. 


91 


with the aid of a stick. He wore the attire 
of a typical tramp and in all, was about as pathetic 
a picture as Granard had beheld in many a day. The 
sight aroused Granard’s sympathies. 

“Poor man. It is a hard fate to have to wear such 
garments as a protection to the body. But I can sym- 
pathize with you — I have been “arrayed” in such at- 
tire myself on certain occasions.” 

There was a lesson in the sight to Granard and some- 
how he could not enjoy the lines he continued to read 
of Browning as much as before, because the sight had 
seemed to impress him so. It was not five minutes 
before Granard heard a step in the outer hall accom- 
panied by the thump of a cane on the floor at regular 
intervals. 

“I do believe he’s coming in here,” Granard thought, 
‘but he can do me no harm, for I think I can out run 
a cripple. I rather hope he’ll come in here, for I can 
give him money enough for a decent meal, at least, for 
he certainly seems to need it, and I have known, too, 
what it is to want a meal.” 

There was a knock at the door and putting his book 
aside, Granard crossed the room to see if he were not 
correct in guessing who his visitor would be. He 
opened the door to bid his guest welcome. 

“I have just come to town and have no money. I 
was passing and thought I might stay here tonight. 
It has begun to rain,” the man said. 

He spoke the truth. A light shower was falling. 
Granard, who had recognized instantly the man’s face, 
opened the door wide and coolly and cordially invited 
him in. 

“Take that Morris chair,” he said smilingly, of- 
fering the box he had used himself that day as a chair. 
A smile unpleasant to see covered Wilkes’ face — for 
it was he — and instead of accepting “the chair,” he 
sprang quickly in front of the door and closing it, pulled 
a revolver from his pocket and held it in Granard’s 
face. 

“I’ve got you now, Dick Schaft. You are mine at 
last. You had better come with me without a word 
or I’ll shoot” Wilkes said threateningly, but his boast 
was too soon, for Granard knocked his hand aside with 
( 13 ) 


92 


THE CONQUEROR. 


giant-like strength, and whipped a pistol from his own 
pocket and lifting it to the level of Wilkes’ head, he 
said quietly: “You did wrong to attempt this alone. 
You endanger your life at such risks. Did you expect 
me to stand, here and calmly obey all your orders and 
let you kill me? I am not fond of obeying — only the 
whims of Dick Schaft. Now, give me the gun. You 
know I have the reputation of killing without stopping 
to consider, or giving my victims time to pray and do 
you think I shall make you the exception? Will you 
give me the pistol?” 

Wilkes handed the weapon over. Never had he 
done anything more obediently since following his 
mother’s commands when a small boy, and she had 
stood, paddle in hand ready to administer the punish- 
ment he needed for certain offenses committed. The 
detective was trembling. “Now, my friend, I spared 
your life — you spare mine. We’ll place these pistols 
on this chiffonier, so,” indicating a crude shelf on the 
wall, “and I won’t touch! them again until I have your 
permission, provided you do what I say.” 

Wilkes made no answer and while he was wondering 
what Schaft would do, as suddenly as he had sprung 
towards the door to prevent his escape, just as sudden- 
ly Schaft sprang towards him and taking his hands in 
his in an iron-like grasp, an instant later he had them 
crossed and in a rope loop. His man being submissive, 
his eye still on the pistols which were in Schaft’s 
reach, but not his own, Wilkes uttered no outcry or 
complaint. Then Schaft took from his pocket the gag 
he had had there the night he met Miss Grant, and 
clamly adjusted it in the man’s mouth. He was per- 
fectly submissive and made no attempts at resistance, 
knowing how useless it would be. Then Schaft went 
to the pistols, emptied them both and returning the 
detective his unloaded, put his own in his pocket. 

“Just make yourself at home now. I’m sorry I 
can’t entertain you, but I’m in the most interesting 
part of this book and I must finish it. Will you ex- 
cuse me?” Schaft said, offering Wilkes the box and, 
as he took it, being afraid not tq, Schaft sat on the floor 
and taking up his book, calmly resumed his reading, 
and in a few minutes it -was evident that he was un- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


93 


aware of the man’s presence in his absorption of the 
book. Occasionally he arose and went to the window 
and looked out, but each time he returned to his book 
in silence, resuming his reading with an eagerness 
that interested even the disconcerted detective. Pres- 
ently, the book was finished and Schaft went to the 
window once more. It was quite dark now, and the 
rain had ceased. 

“Well, if you are ready, we’ll go now. We haven’t 
many accommodations at this hostelry, I’m sorry to 
say, and I was not counting on having guests for the 
evening. Where do you prefer going? You haven't 
a Waldorf-Astoria in the city, I believe, But perhaps 
you have a favorite. If you have, name it. Don’t be 
modest, just say which one.” 

He started towards the door and motioned Wilkes 
to follow. In silence he obeyed, and he and Schaft 
went down the steps together. Down the deserted 
street they walked and on through byways and alleys, 
until presently they were out of sight of the city, 
emerging suddenly into a forest densely covered in 
trees — a spot that Wilkes had never seen before. His 
companion spoke no more, and they wandered on and 
on in the darkness, and Wilkes could hear no sound 
except the regular measured tread of their footsteps. 
Presently he stopped quickly and heard the footsteps 
no more. Schaft was gone and Wilkes was alone. In 
the pitchy blackness of the night he could not see his 
hand before him, and he was not aware just where 
Schaft had left him nor when. But he was gone. Pres- 
ently he heard a carriage coming. He must not be far 
from the road then. Wilkes’ heart filled with hope. 
He made his way to the direction of the sound and 
reached the road at a luckier moment than he de- 
served, perhaps, for Wilkes was scarcely more than 
a brute at heart. The carriage stopped just in front 
of him, and in some manner he managed to make the 
driver, who was its only occupant, understand that he 
wanted the gag removed, which the accommodating 
driver did. 

Relieved of his burden, he stepped into the carriage 
and rode on to the city with the driver, but he did 
not report the matter to police headquarters that 


94 


THE CONQUEROR. 


night — for reasons. He was dead for rest and sleep 
after the long journey through the woods — and, then, 
it would tend to spoil his reputation, this defeat, as 
the best detective in the city. It would put him in a 
bad light and seem too much like a joke on himself, 
consequently Wilkes was silent. It was by mere 
chance that he had found out Schaft's whereabouts 
of the day, and not because he was so clever in his 
duties as detective. On happening to pass the unoc- 
cupied tenement, he had overheard some children at 
play making remarks about “the nice looking gentle- 
man upstairs, who must be so rich or else he couldn't 
dress so fine.” The little waifs had congregated about 
the door and were waiting, it seems, for his return, 
when they hoped he would give them a penny or so 
or even more, if they begged it of him and they had 
remained patiently about the doors all day in hopes of 
having their wishes fulfilled, until the rain had finally 
driven them to their homes. 

“What sort of looking fellow is he?” Wilkes had 
asked, out of mere idle curiosity. 

“He was dressed fine and had a black moustache,” 
one of the children began to explain, but Wilkes waited 
to hear no more. He darted into a shop — or shanty 
it might be called, nearby and offered the dealer, who 
w r as in very ordinary circumstances — almost on the 
road to poverty — a rather handsome reward for the 
exchange of clothing for a few moments. The dealer, 
always on the alert for an extra penny, readily agreed 
to the proposition and hastily took off his own cloth- 
ing to accommodate Wilkes for the time being, for 
if he did not return at all, the dealer, who had an eye 
to business, knew well who would get the best of the 
bargain — and then he had the money in advance be- 
side. 

“I'll get that $11,000 myself and not have to divvy 
up with the others, and I'll show them that Wilkes is 
the only detective in the city,” Wilkes had decided, 
but whether he was successful in his boastings, re- 
mained to be seen by Wilkes. Certainly he made a 
very forlorn looking detective as he reached the city 
that night, not presenting quite the gentlemanly ap- 
pearance in the dealer's ill-fitting clothes as was his 
usual custom. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


95 


When Granard had lost himself from Wilkes in the 
woods, which he had done purposely, he turned back 
in the direction of the city to make his way to Mrs. 
Walton’s for the night, for he himself was very tired 
and longed for rest, but he had not gone very far 
when it began raining again and a flash of lightning 
revealed a very black, angry looking cloud, and it was 
plain that a storm was threatening. Only a short dis- 
tance away he saw a light burning and on going nearer, 
he saw, too, that the light came from the windows of 
a little two-roomed cottage. Granard stepped up 
closer and looked in at one of the windows at which 
the shades were not yet drawn. And he was im- 
pressed as he had never been by the sight which met 
his eyes. The room was very scantily furnished, with 
hardly enough necessities for the common comforts of 
life, but seated around an open fireplace were as happy 
looking family as one meets with often in life. What 
mattered it if comforts were few? Love was there 
and that was the cause of all that cheer. There was 
the sweet-faced mother with her baby in her arms, 
the children laughing and playing about the floor and 
the fond father looking proudly on, the smile on his 
face showing that he was as happy as he cared be — 
that no king had more of life’s happiness than he. 

And that picture of home. Could Granard ever 
forget it? Home! How the word appealed to him just 
then. He looked longingly at the mother who held 
the baby in her arms and enviously almost at the 
father with his loving wife so near and the children 
about his knee. To have a home with children, ah! 
It were the true meaning of the word happiness, no 
matter how humble the home and surroundings. And 
as Granard stood gazing on the sight, he felt that he 
would exchange places with any member of that hum- 
ble family for that companionship — and yet — would 
he exchange places if he could? Would a pair of blue 
eyes exist for him if he were in either of their places ? 
With a sigh of satisfaction he turned away, contented 
at his own lot and with a sort of feeling as he thought 
of Miss Grant, of being particularly blessed with his 
lot in life and that he was the one who should be 
envied. 

A peal of thunder aroused him from his dreaming. 


96 


THE CONQUEROR. 


Granard began to look about him for shelter. There 
was plainly no place for him for the night here in this, 
crowded household. A second flash of lightning re- 
vealed to him an empty cabin nearby and here Gran- 
ard took refuge. The doors were down and the win- 
dows broken, but he entered, and, going to one end 
of the room, threw himself down on the floor. He 
was unusually tired and weak from having had no 
nourishment since morning and felt fatigued, not 
aware that he had a temperature. A thermometer 
would have registered 103 degrees. He was very 
restless, although accustomed to such hardships, but 
never had he felt the discomfort so keenly. The night 
air chilled him through and through. He ; turned over 
with a groan. It seemed a hard fate to be denied bed 
and shelter. Was not every human entitled to this? 
The birds of the air had their resting place, but he, 
the wanderer — the miserable, had none. 

He thought enviously again of the picture of the 
happy family and could not still the longings of his 
own heart. How he still craved a home like other 
men, and if what the Bible sai4 were true, this was a 
man’s portion. Granard remembered the lines as he 
read them: “Live joyfully with the wife whom thou 
lovest all the days of the life of thy vanity, which he 
hath given thee under the sun, all the days of thy 
vanity: for that is thy portion in this life, and is thy 
labour which thou takest under the sun.” 

And yet the common comforts of life were often 
denied him — although it was not a question of means 
which kept him from enjoying life’s comforts. But 
he, an alien, must be denied. For a moment the spirit 
of rebellion filled him and then he thought resolutely: 
“I will live up to my fate. If this is my portion, it 
is all I deserve — all that was intended for me. I am 
paying the price. A murderer has no right to com- 
plain.” 

He turned over and lay quite still. No more sighs 
or groans were heard. He was as passive as a sum- 
mer zephyr. A flash of lightning came and a large 
oak tree nearby was tom in two. A clap of thunder 
followed, which seemed to reveberate to the earth's 
foundations. Then the rain began falling in torrents 
and a heavy wind began blowing. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


97 


“I shall leave here tomorrow. Wilkes would prob- 
ably not catch me in a year, he is so slow, but he can 
certainly make me uncomfortable at times and he 
might, by some accident, trap me in some way and I 
must not risk even possible accidents. But there are 
other reasons for my leaving. While I know it is 
mere madness, this belief that I, a Schaft, could know 
what love is, but the thought has become pain to me 
and I can bear it no longer. I must go away and for- 
get. It is but justice to myself and as I am un- 
worthy — her. Even a Schaft must have his ideas of 
honor and justice to a lady. So I had better go at 
once. And this is my last night here. Then where 
will I go? God only knows. But, oh, it will be hard 
to leave ! To be separated from the one who has been 
so much to me — the very thought is more than I can 
bear. It is a comfort to know that I am breathing 
the same atmosphere she breathes, that the same skies 
are over us, the same sunshine for each of us, but it 
is best for me to leave — it is justice to her.” 

The rains continued to fall and there were no hopes 
of his leaving the place that night and so he lay on the 
bare floor, pillowless, watching the lightning’s almost 
unceasing flashings and listening to the thunder’s 
deep roll. 


98 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

At her home, Miss Grant stood looking out of the 
library window watching the storm. The lightning 
was flashing, the thunder rolling and she saw objects 
flying about in the air. A kind of cyclone was pass- 
ing over the city. Helen became restless. She would 
sit down and look into the fire for a few moments 
and then go to the window again and look out. Mrs. 
Grant, who w r as in the room with her, reproved her 
mildly. 

“Helen, what is it? I never saw you nervous about 
a storm before. You are as restless as a caged ani- 
mal. Do sit down. You’re not well. You must be- 
gin your tonic again tomorrow, and I wall see that you 
take it regularly.” 

The threat had its effect. Helen became passive. 

“I’m perfectly well, mother, but I can’t help but feel 
strange somehow. I hope everybody is safe tonight — 
in the settlement and — everywhere.” 

Helen settled herself on a low stool at her mother’s 
feet and laid her head in Mrs. Grant’s lap. Mrs. Grant 
began brushing the hair back from her forehead as 
in her childhood days. For the time being Helen was 
her baby girl again — Rose Mary being safely tucked 
away in bed and sleeping soundly. 

“I know now that Helen is in love. This was my 
first symptom when I found I really cared for Mr. 
Grant. I remember distinctly going and sitting at my 
mother’s knees and putting my head in her lap. I 
wanted to tell her, but didn’t for some reason.” 

Mrs. Grant kept waiting in a sort of expectancy for 
a confession from her daughter, but Helen was not 
communicative. She might have had it on her lips to 
speak, but did not, probably for the same reasons her 
mother had had as a girl herself. They sat there for 
some time, until Mrs. Grant suggested that it was bed 
time, but even after Helen had gone to her room, she 
was wakeful and did not care to retire. She sat down 
on the rug before the fire and drew from the bosom 


THE CONQUEROR. 


99 


of her dress a hand-painted miniature, where it had 
been safely ensconced all day. She looked at it for 
some time, gazing on the features of a child — the face 
of a boy with great, luminous dark eyes and rich, 
lustrous clusters of brown curls. It was the picture 
Granard had taken from his pocket by accident and 
when she had spied it and asked for it, he had given 
it to her to keep for a few days. It was of himself, 
painted on ivory by his mother in his almost infancy — 
only five years old. Helen looked at it long and lov- 
ingly — and then she put it to her lip& and covered the 
baby face with kisses. Was it wrong? Where was 
the harm to kiss the innocent face of a little cherub 
of a baby boy? It would be no harm in the flesh and 
blood and an inanimate picture ! There was no harm. 
It could not be wrong. Miss Grant laughed at her own 
scruples and then she hugged it to her heart until 
the ivory was warm from the warmth of her own 
body — and then — she kissed it again — and again and 
even after she had retired, it rested in the palm of 
her hand until she fell asleep, like a child with a toy, 
unwilling to part with it, even for the night. But her 
last thoughts had been as she lay still watching the 
lightning and listening to the thunder: “I hope all 
who are dear to me are safe tonight — and that the 
hotel where Mr. Granard stays will not be blown 
away.” And as she lay on the Ostermoor mattress 
and down pillows and under soft, warm blankets, she 
had him pictured in a comfortable bed in one of the 
most select rooms in the hotel at which she thought 
he was stopping. 

It was eleven o’clock next morning before Granard 
awoke. He was conscious of a hand being under his 
head and when he opened his eyes he saw a man bend- 
ing over him with his eyes fastened on his face. For 
an instant Granard was startled, but there was no 
cause for alarm, for the man was none other than the 
good father whom he had seen in the cottage the night 
before, going about his daily tasks on the place. An 
errand led him to the cabin where he discovered 
Granard sleeping. He was startled at first at finding 
anyone there, but seeing that the man was well 
dressed and evidently not of the tramp variety, guess- 
ing that he had been in some distress and meant no 
( 14 ) 


THE conqueror: 


100 


harm, he had gone over to him to offer assistance if ' 
need be, and just as he placed, his hand under the- 
stranger’s head, he awoke. Granard was startled and. 
bewildered, but for a moment only. 

“My good man,” the stranger said kindly. “What 
has happened? Can I be of any help to you.?”’ 

Granard explained that he was passing in the early’ 
part of the night and as the storm had come up, find- 
ing no other shelter, he had been forced to take refuge; 
there. 

“I expected to be up by daylight and go on to the 
city, but it seems I have been napping. It was after 
three o’clock that I fell asleep, I’m sure, for I remem- 
ber striking a match and looking at my watch at 
three. ^ 

“Why didn’t you come to our cabin? We would: 
have let you in and found a bed for you if one had to* 
be put up in the kitchen. Our house is small, but 1 
hope I’ll never live to see the day I can’t take a stranger- 
in for the night when it is storming. You must come 
and have something to eat with us. We’ve had break- 
fast, but the good wife is never too busy to stop her 
labors to do her duty.” 

Granard thanked the man out of the gratefulness 
of his heart and he accepted the invitation to go to* 
his home with him where he might rearrange his. 
toilet. He bathed and redressed, but could not be- 
prevailed on to eat anything, for he assured the man 
he was not in the least hungry, which might have been 
rather on the order of a falsehood, but Granard was 
not going to see that frail little woman, the man’s wife, 
stop her duties to fix himself, a strong, healthy man, 
a meal when he was in walking distance of a city full 
of hotels and cafes. That little woman had about all 
slip could do, Granard figured, to attend to the wants 
of the three little children tugging at her skirts, with- 
out tlie extra task of looking after him, even if it were 
for only a few moments, and she really did not mind, 
but would be glad to do what she could. Granard 
thanked them again and again for their kindness and 
started on his way to the city. He must leave that 
day — the sooner the better, on the first outgoing train, 
but he must not leave before seeing Miss Grant to say v 
good-bye — he could not do this. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


TOi 


And so to Miss Grant’s it was that he went directly 
mnd when she met him at the door, she started back 
in utter amazement, for she hardly recognised Gran- 
:ard as the same friend she had known only a day or 
so earlier. He looked so worn and haggard that she 
<could hardly believe it was he. The night’s exposure 
and twenty-fouri hours -without food or drink had told 
on him. 

'‘Why, Mr. Granard,” she said compassionately, ex- 
tending both her hands to him as' he took them in his 
own. “What on earth has happened? Where have 
jyou been? You look like you might have just gotten 
out of bed from typhoid. Do come in out of this biting 
wind to the fire and tell me what has happened.” 

Granard laughed lightly and said he had taken cold 
.and that it had told on him. 

“0, these wretched colds and this wretched Novem- 
ber weather for colds,” she exclaimed, sympathetically. 
“You’ve been - exposing yourself, I haven’t a doubt, 
and now you’re paying the penalty. I’m afraid you 
men are incorrigible about thinking you must be out 
at nights, but X suppose a good theatre is a temptation 
as a means of diversion after a hard day’s work. How- 
ever, I never go, but that is no sign the whole world 
disapproves. Now sit down here by this fire and I 
will make you some coffee, and I’ve no doubt you’ll 
feel better then.” she said, drawing up a large easy 
chair close to the fire with her own hands and bidding 
him be seated at once and Granard gratefully obeyed. 
And never had a fire looked more cheerful, or warmth 
felt more luxurious to his body, for he was still cold 
from the night’s exposure. 

Miss Grant had turned to fix the coffee and then, 
for some strange reason remarkable in the history of 
womankind, an intuition told her that he was hungry. 
She thought of the chafing dish and no sooner was it 
thought of than procured. And blessed be chafing 
dishes, for of all the pleasures he had ever heard of 
in his life, nothing could equal the joy of watching 
Miss Grant as she gracefully prepared the dainty 
viands that would have been fit for a king’s table. 
Granard did not eat heartily, but he thought he had 
never put such dainty, delicious morsels in his mouth 
as those prepared by the hands of his charming hos- 


102 


THE CONQUEROR. 


tess. And Miss Grant joined in with him in devour- 
ing those dainty souffles and other viands, for her 
mother and Rose Mary v/ere out for the day and it 
was time for luncheon, anyway, and they had the most 
comfortable, home-like, coziest little meal there before 
that cheerful, blazing fire that ever was served. 

Miss Grant seemed very happy, although Granard 
was indisposed, but this might have been the reason, 
partly, for it does a woman a world of good to know 
she is administering to the comforts of the man who 
is dear to — that is, the man she likes and whom she 
believes in return likes her. When the meal, or rather 
repast, was finished, Miss Grant rang for the maid and 
when she had answered the summons and the dishes 
were removed, Miss Grant and her companion still sat 
by that cheerful lire and it was all still very cozy be- 
ing there together. Helen felt it and she believed 
Granard did, for he appeared very happy and laughed 
and chatted gaily, but even though he seemed so con- 
tent, Helen thought she could detect a shadow come 
and go on his forehead at times. And she was not 
mistaken, for during the midst of his keenest enjoy- 
ment of the situation, a thought would arise to take 
the pleasure away. “I have come to say good-bye. 
This is the last time I shall ever look on her face. I 
shall never see her again.” 

Granard was trying to conceal his real feelings that 
his mood might not affect her and take away the 
buoyancy of her spirit and he was endeavoring to be 
as cheerful as she, but presently the laughter ceased 
and they lapsed into a long silence. It was Granard’s 
voice which was heard first — husky, changed and 
broken. 

“If I should say to you that I wish I had never 
looked on your face or heard your voice, would it mean 
anything to you, Miss Helen?” 

Helen gave a sudden start. 

“Mean anything? Why, Mr. Granard, it would mean 
worlds — that is, it would mean a great deal to me, I 
can assure you.” 

“And would you be disappointed at such an admis- 
sion from me ?” 

“I would be more surprised than disappointed, Mr. 
Granard, for then I should know I had been mistaken 


THE CONQUEROR. 


103 


in a character which I thought I was just beginning 
to understand so well, and it would force me in return 
to say the same thing of you, which would be a very 
false statement, and my friends know that I am not 
fond of telling an untruth.” 

“That is true, Miss Helen, and your friends are 
never mistaken in you, I’m sure. But if you would be 
disappointed at such an admission from me, could 1 
truthfully say it, then, would you be disappointed if I 
said I had come this afternoon to say good-bye to 
you ?” 

Helen's face went suddenly white like the alabaster 
caste on the mantel before them, but she was very 
serene as she looked up in his eyes and answered 
frankly: “You ask a question that your own heart has 
the right to answer, but if you want the truth, Mr. 
Granard, Fd be very much disappointed, indeed. Sup- 
pose, though, that I should say that you could not say 
good-bye — what then?” 

“I suppose I should have to leave without a farewell 
word from you,” sadly. 

“But if I locked the doors and you found yourself a 
prisoner ” 

“Fd be the happiest criminal ever brought to justice. 
I could do a thousand atrocious crimes for such an im- 
prisonment, but perhaps my past life is full enough of 
transgressions, so it might be just as well to 
let me say good-bye. But, Miss Grant, to say that I 
have come to tell you good-bye will not be as great a 
disappointment to you as what I have come especially 
to tell you — that I have been deceiving you.” 

The words came slow and labored. Granard waited 
for an outcry or a response at least, but there was none. 
Miss Grant remained as serene as before. Something 
was grapling at his throat and Granard could speak 
no more, but a moment later he was on his knees at 
the feet of his companion, his head bowed on his breast. 
For several moments he remained silent, but when 
he found his voice, he looked up at last and said in a 
low, but clear tone: “Miss Grant, I implore your par- 
don for the liberties I have taken with you — of listen- 
ing to your voice — looking on your face. I am not 
worthy to do either, but I ask you to listen to my 
story and then I will not impose my presence on you 


THE CONQUEROR. 


104 


longer, you may trust me, for then I shall go out of 
your house and the doors will close forever between 
us. No one has ever heard the story from me and 
you are the only person I have ever cared to tell it to, 
but I think it is but justice to each of us that you 
know.” 

He waited a moment for her approval and as she 
bade him go on, Granard continued: “I must tell you 
the worst at first so that if you care to hear no more, I 
can leave at once without tiring you with a recital 
which may not interest you in the least. Miss Grant, 
I am a murderer.” 

He did not know how near to fainting she came at 
the declaration, composed as she was to all appear- 
ances, nor that she, too, had lost her voice and without 
noticing the effect his words had had on her, he hur- 
ried on and Miss Grant did not fail' to catch a word of 
the story, although she was affected as she had never 
been before, for it seemed that she must surely die, 
the shock the words produced had been so great to her. 

‘Til tell you this and then I am going to give myself 
over to the authorities,” Granard continued. “It was 
when I was a youth just sixteen. I was playing a game 
with a boy friend of about my own age, and I won the 
stakes. My companion was not in a pleasant mood 
at the defeat and when the game was ended, he de- 
clared that I had not won fairly and when I protested 
he became unreasonable and presently, to my surprise, 
deliberately reached down and took the stakes which 
were nothing but a few worthless marbles — and put 
them in his pocket. The marbles were of no value and 
1 cared nothing for them, but it was the principle of 
the thing I objected to, and I did not like the injustice 
of his accusation in claiming that I was dishonest, and, 
becoming angered myself by this time, in a moment of 
passion, I picked up a board lying nearby and struck 
him across the head. It was not a heavy blow, but it 
was an unfortunate one, for the skull was broken. He 
fell to the ground and in a moment was in convulsions. 

“I can never tell you how I felt. Even now I cannot 
bear to dwell on it, for I loved my friend and it almost 
drove me mad to see him lying there in agonies caused 
by my hand. I knew he could not live, but I would have 
exchanged places with him gladly to have been spared 


THE CONQUEROR. 


105 


my own suffering, for I knew I had taken his young 
life and I would gladly have given my own instead. 
The news spread rapidly and my friend was taken to 
his home at once, but I dared not return home to my 
father. 1 knew he would be angry with me — to kill 
his best friend’s child. My father was at times a very 
hard man, but I think now he loved us, for I never re- 
member him as being a demonstrative man, even in my 
mother’s life time; my mother died when I was nine. 
I think father’s children might have misunderstood 
him, and, being all boys, we were never as sympathetic 
as, perhaps, we might have been. 

“So I wandered about the town until about nightfall, 
heavy-hearted and crestfallen, and as I was walking 
down the street alone, I met a friend of mine — a boy 
of about my own age, and he grasped me by the hand 
and said: ‘I’ve looked for you everywhere. Get out 
of town at once. Worth’s brothers say they will kill 
you on sight.’ 

“He hurried me to the station and put me on board 
a train. It was well for me that I had money enough 
with me for transportation to London, where I had de- 
cided it would be best to go. On reaching London, I 
wandered about for days, homeless and broken-hearted, 
tilled with remorse for the death of my friend, for I 
had loved him as a brother, as I said, and we had never 
quarreled before and haunted by the remembrance that 
his blood was on my hands, I became nearly crazy and 
for days I was hardly sane, wandering about the streets 
frying to drown thought in any diversion which I could 
find. I was also afraid of being seen by any of our 
townsmen who might by chance be in the city, and for 
this reason I stayed on the most unfrequented streets 
and in places where I would not likely be seen by any- 
one who might happen to recognize me. 

“It was while I was going down a certain back street 
in London that I happened to see one of Worth’s broth- 
ers coming toward me. I supposed, of course, that he 
was looking for me and I ran as hard as I could to the 
wharf and boarded a steamer which, as it happened, 
was just starting for America. The captain seemed 
amazed when he found me on board and could not con- 
jecture how I had gotten on deck without being de- 
tected, but we were well out at sea before he disco v- 


106 


THE CONQUEROR. 


ered me and as he could not throw me overboard, he 
made the best of the situation by making me work my 
passage over. I did not mind the work, but rather 
enjoyed it, but from then on my fate was a cruel one. 
The captain, who was a very hard man, seemed to take 
an especial dislike to me and everybody after that, 
when I finally landed in America seemed to be of the 
same inclination, and, being penniless then and without 
friends, I became embittered and began a life of reck- 
lessness which I had not learned to rue until I met 
you here such a short time past in the grove you said 
was once dear to you. 

“I remember well my first experience of being hun- 
gry. Having been reared in a home where there was 
abundance and plenty, I as a lad had had no idea of 
what the pangs of hunger could be, but I was soon to 
learn. I had not eaten for twenty-four hours or more 
and being a growing lad and hale and hearty, I felt the 
need of nourishment keenly, and as I was walking by 
a cottage in the suburbs of New York, I saw a loaf of 
bread on a table inside by the open window. A poor 
woman lived there, I was told by a little girl playing in 
the street, and she made her living by selling matches. 
I would have given my life for that loaf then, for I 
was starving, but I remembered hearing my mother 
say that it was wrong to take anything that belonged 
to another and then the pathos of the woman’s means 
of a livelihood touched me and I passed the window, 
leaving the bread untouched. So, you see, I was once 
not entirely bad. I was rewarded for my integrity at 
that time, for a man in passing in a wagon, threw the 
remains of a lunch on the ground and you may be 
sure I lost no time in devouring it. 

“There were many other times when I went hungry 
and I was saved from starvation by just such provi- 
dential happenings as that. I could never say one 
night where my resting place would be for the next, 
or just what kind of bed I was to lie on. I would sleep 
anywhere under shelter and have often been aroused 
and ordered out in the middle of the night where I 
would wander about until I either found other lodging, 
or continued my aimless wanderings until morning, in 
case I was not lucky enough to find another resting- 
place. I could get nothing to do because I did not 


THE CONQUEROR. 


107 


speak English then and only eked out a bare existence 
by selling papers and doing just such errands as I could 
find, which was difficult, for all occupations seemed to 
be reserved for the American boy. At last I was made 
to understand that I was not needed any longer, even 
for selling the paper. I was not satisfactory because 
I could not be made to understand just what my duties 
were and another boy was waiting for my place. It 
was about sundown when I got my dismissal and I re- 
member I cried over the disappointment, for I had 
spent all my earnings for lodging and something to 
eat and I had only one crown left. 

“It was then that I met my first real temptation. 
The night was cold and I was tired and hungry. A 
light shining from a certain shop window on the East 
Side was particularly attractive to me just at that 
moment and, going closer to the shop, I stopped and 
looked in. A cheerful fire was burning in a large heater 
inside and I can never forget how fascinated I was at 
the sight which met my eyes. Men were seated about 
the tables laughing and talking, and, to my eyes, it 
was the embodiment of genuine enjoyment and pleas- 
ure. Here was a place where trouble had never been, 
evidently. It must be, or there could not be such 
cheer about the place. They were playing cards and 
on the tables before them were steins of foaming beer, 
but as we had always played cards in our own home 
circle and wine was never known to be out in the cellar 
and was always on our sideboard at home, I had no 
thought of the wrong of it all and charmed by the 
genial air of companionship the place seemed to afford. 
I opened the door and entered. 

“And I shall never forget the effect my entrance 
had on that audience and the uproar that followed. 
One of the men, a tremendous big fellow, who struck 
me in my childish mind as being quite a giant, looked 
at me in amazement for an instant and then he burst 
into a roar of laughter. 

“ ‘Welcome/ he cried when his laughter had ceased. 
‘Fellows, here’s game. He’ll make it interesting for 
us. He has the professional air.’ 

“ He’s a minor,’ another suggested, gruffly, evident- 
ly displeased by the interruption of his game of poker. 
“Put him out,” but the giant whose mood seemed mer- 
05 ) 


108 


THE GONQUEKOK. 


rier, for he was well under the influence of wine, an- 
swered scornfully: “A minor, indeed. Here’s a man 
in his dotage and you call him a minor. The bar- 
tender is asleep and any way, if Jacques says welcome 
to a stranger he stays usually, does he not?” threat- 
eningly. 

The man to whom he addressed the remarks was 
silent. I afterwards knew why. Jacques was the 
bully of the East Side, and no one dared anger him, 
knowing from past observation and some experience,, 
no doubt, that they would pay the price. Jacques 
reached out his hand to me and I put mine in his con- 
fidentially, feeling, that here I had at last found a 
friend. 

“And how much money do you intend putting up on 
the game. Lord — er — what is the name?” 

“I told him my name was Granard and put my hand 
in my pocket and brought out the crown. Jacques 
slapped the fellow next him on the back. “I told you 1 
so. Here is the opportunity we’ve craved so long. 
Fellows we’ll win the spoils.” Then he turned to me- 
and said with serious politeness, hiding the smile on 
his face with his hand: “Will you put up stakes Lord 
Granard? If so, we’ll play the game.” 

“I had seen my brothers play poker in their rooms 
at home, at night when father was asleep and I knew 
the rules of the game from watching them play. 
Jacques put his crown on the table by mine and then 
the game began. I was never more serious over any- 
thing in my life, and if Jacques was not, he, concealed 
his mirth well, for I was sure that he, too, was as 
serious as I. But when the game was ended and by 
mere good luck I had won, Jacques could contain his 
merriment no longer. He roared with laughter and 
held his sides as the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“You see my prediction,” he cried, when he couM 
speak. “It never fails. I can always spot a profes- 
sional gambler on sight. Lord Granard shall we try 
again ?” 

“Certainly,” I said good-naturedly for I was enjoying 
the situation and my victory immensely myself.” 

“At this ail the men laughed and then we played 
again, I putting my two crowns against another two of 
his. I won again, and a third time, for luck was cer- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


109 


tainly running my way, and Jacques had really be- 
come serious. By this time the other men had drawn 
their chairs up around the table and we re looking on 
excitedly and they were evidently amused as they had 
not been in years, for they did not leave their places 
during the remainder of the evening, but continued to 
watch us, content and at every victory of mine, there 
-would be roars of “bravo,” and other expressions of 
admiration for me, until I was dizzy with the delight 
the strange experience was affording me. The night 
proved that I was a bora gambler, and when I arose 
at last to leave, I was accorded an invitation to come 
again the next night, and assured that I would be 
welcome, despite my age. The bar-tender was awake 
by then and had been watching me for some time, but 
the fact that I interested Jacques made him silent if he 
had an opinion, for I afterwards learned that he 
had a mortal terror of Jacques. 

“While we were at the game Jacques put his cards 
down on the table suddenly and taking mine from me, 
said kindly: ‘Run under the table Lord Granard for a 
moment until I examine these cards please. I think 
you have them conjured. There's a good boy.' ” 

I obeyed, eager to please my new friend, but not hav- 
ing the slightest idea what his motive could be. As 
I was coming out from the table, however, I caught 
sight of a policeman going out of the door, come to 
examine the place for minors, and I was soon enlight- 
ened as to why Jacques wanted to examine the cards, 
for I had many occasions afterwards for the 
table as a place of refuge at Jacques command. 
I can never tell you whether Jacques really loved me 
or not. I don't know whether it was possible that 
Jacques could love, but I know he never failed me. He 
never seemed to forget that I had interested him for 
a whole evening, and that he was under undying ob- 
ligations for such an act. I think Jacques was blase. 
He confided to me once that his sweetheart had proven 
false to him and that since then he hated women. I 
can’t tell you either, whether Jacques had a good heart 
or not, as long as I was associated with him, but I 
know he was kind to me and petted me a good deal 
more than was good for a boy of my age, perhaps, and 
often I have fallen asleep on his big breast while he 


110 


THE CONQUEROR. 


was at cards, or smoking his pipe before the stove, for 
I was not sixteen, small for my age and still in short 
trousers. ,, 

“I don’t know whether I should tell you that I learn- 
ed to worship Jacques^ in a way, for I know you could 
not approve of the friendship of such a man as he for 
a boy, but I did. He, too, spoke French and accus- 
tomed to the hardships I had been and yearning for 
companionship as I did, I found a solace in the presence 
of this big ruffian that I can not describe, incongruous 
as the comraderie may seem to you. Instead of 
sleeping in the cold, cheerless places I had become 
accustomed to, I slept in his arms with my own arms 
about his neck, and from then on the way was 
easy for me, for awhile at least. If I worshipped 
Jacques I think it was mutual in a way. I believe 
firmly he would have died for me had occasion called 
for it, even though I doubt his real capacity for loving, 
as I said and I know I would have died for Jacques. 
He took the greatest care of me and took great pride 
in my growth and physical training, showing me many 
exercises that were conducive to my physical develop- 
ment. “How this young ruffian does grow,” he said 
one night to a companion, looking down on me with 
pride. “Examine this muscle. I believe he’ll make 
the champion prize fighter yet,” and Jacques beamed 
with pride this time, and the fellow agreed that I gave 
great promise of a good fist.” 

“For three years I enjoyed Jacques’ friendship, but 
one evening I returned to our quarters — a cozy little 
room Jacques had furnished himself and which he al- 
ways referred to me as ‘our home,’ to find Jacques 
missing. I sat down on the rug before the fire to 
wait for him, but he did not return. At twelve 
o’clock I arose and went out to the saloon to inquire 
for him when the bar-tender — a very gruff man, whom 
I never liked or could become friendly with — told me 
that Jacques was where I would not soon be able to 
see him again. They had taken him to some federal 
prison in the West, ‘and you’ll have to do what he did, 
if you ever want to see him again,’ he added gruffly. 

“I thought he might have broken the news to me a 
little more gently, but he hadn’t enough heart to be 
that considerate. The shock of the dreadful news was 


THE CONQUEROR, 


111 


more to me than I can describe. I hurried back to 
our quarters and throwing myself on the floor, cried 
until it seemed I must die and until exhausted I fell 
asleep. When I awoke I was in a charity hospital, 
where I was told I had been for a month or more and 
it was my first moment of consciousness, it seemed. 
It was by main force that they kept me there at the 
hospital, for all that sickness and disease made a very 
unpleasant impression on me, just a lad, and finally in 
my distaste for it, I seized my opportunity of escape 
and ran away from the place. I would have gone to 
the place they had taken Jacques if I had to walk, had 
I known where he was, but the bar-tender could not 
tell me, and I could never find out where Jacques was, 
although I never lost an opportunity to gain any infor- 
mation I could on the subject. 

“I think this is when I first really became thoroughly 
embittered to the world. There was no one to sym- 
pathize with me in the loss of my companion, and in- 
stead of the kind words of Jacques, I heard nothing 
but reproofs. I had no money — Jacques had always 
given me my supplies and when I could not pay the 
rent for ‘our home/ I was ordered by the landlady to 
get out. Then I was forced to turn again to the 
gambling table. Jacques had taught me no occupa- 
tion in his ambition that I should be trained as the 
champion prize fighter. I had never played much, 
but I had watched Jacques carefully and 1 knew the 
game well by this time. But the tables were changed 
it seemed. Whereas, I played in luck and with no 
science, that famous night with Jacques, I played with 
more science than luck afterwards, for I was not al- 
ways successful, losing as fast as I could gain and at 
times only winning enough to cover my bare expenses 
and often not even so fortunate, if I may call it so> as 
this. I had no companionship except the class of men 
who were found in a bar or gambling den, for I was 
known to be a comrade of Jacques and consequently 
was shunned by respectable people as if I had carried 
some contagion and people avoided me so that I began 
to feel that I should carry a yellow flag about with me 
wherever I went as a means of warning to the people as 
they do in cases of smallpox — then my conscience 


112 


THE CONQUEROR. 


would be clearer; for I had begun to believe myself 
that my presence was contaminating. 

“And so my life was wretched enough as it was, but 
it’s greatest bitterness began the night I met Dick 
Schaft. I was startled to go into a saloon and find my- 
self there seated at table throwing dice. It was not my 
reflection in a mirror, but a man who resembled me so 
strongly that he, as well as I w r as startled as he looked 
up and saw me for the first time. 

“ ‘By the arm of St. Mary’s, am I dreaming ?’ he ask- 
ed, staring up at me, as if he were not sure of his own 
senses — and then he regained his composure and quiet- 
ly and with great courtesy invited ‘his twin,’ as he was 
pleased to call me — for oddly enough our first 
names were the same, too, — to a game. And if Jacques 
had made a reputation as a reprobate, his fame must 
sink into insignificance by the career of this man. He 
proudly proclaimed the fact that he not only was 
guilty of breaking every commandment in the Bible, 
but that he was grieved that there were no more com- 
mandments to break, and he also boasted that there 
wasn’t a policeman living who ever had, or ever would 
lay hands on him. Which seemed to be true, for the 
man was clever and could have evaded a policeman’s 
ghost and gotten out of it’s presence had one chosen 
to face him, I verily believe. He was even more clever 
at this than Jacques, but he was not a Jacques. 
Jacques had a heart — Dick Schaft had not. He w 7 ould 
murder a man in cold blood just for the pleasure of 
seeing him suffer if he had no provocation and other 
crimes he had committed were equally as atrocious, if 
not worse in some respects. You would not care to 
hear the details, I am sure!” 

“I learned all this in due time, though I did not 
know of the existence of such a man until that night. 
It was while we w 7 ere at our game that an onlooker 
made some remark, which caused Schaft to lose and 
angered byl the interruption, he deliberately pulled his 
gun and shot the man in cold blood. I was too as- 
tonished to move, but to Schaft, the ever ready, it 
had no effect, so far as arousing his sympathies was 
concerned, for when I looked from the body on the 
floor up to where he had been sitting, I saw that Schaft 
was gone. There was no one else in the room — the 
bar-tender having gone into an adjoining apartment 


THE CONQUEROR. 


113 


for a moment — and it dawned on me suddenly that 
being there alone with the dead man, I would natural- 
ly be suspected of his murder and that it would be 
best for me to get away. 

“And I was none too soon, for a policeman entered 
by a side door just here, having been attracted by the 
noise and as he caught sight of me leaving, naturally 
he concluded that it was I who did the murder, and 
also that I was Schaft with whose face he was familiar 
if he had never gotten close enough to capture him, 
and he started after me. It was by the merest good 
fortune that I escaped, but since that night I have been 
identified with the noted Schaft and for this reason, if 
no other, have not had a moment's peace, scarcely, for 
strangely enough, on this eventful evening the real 
Schaft mysteriously disappeared, I learned from some 
of my companions, who knew, although they did not 
learn the circumstances of his disappearance, and 
Schaft was never seen again in that part of the coun- 
try." 

“Of course, I had the word of my associates in the 
bar that I was not Schaft, but what would that amount 
to? Would any one take the word of one of no bet- 
ter repute than myself ? And since that night I have 
been wandering about, a Jean Val Jean, hunted, hound- 
ed, with the price of ten thousand over my head, for 
Schaft had defrauded the government and I, it seemed, 
must answer for the wrong because my eyes and hair 
were black like his. I dared not presume to try to 
establish my innocence — that I was of good birth, for 
I was wanted then in Paris for murder and what would 
have been the use ? It would be but folly. 

“This experience almost turned me against cards — 
I grew faint at the sight of them and I would go weeks 
without throwing a dice or seeing a chip, but I had 
no companionship, no friends, except my books and 
sometimes I tired of these and often it seemed I must 
go mad in my loneliness, for, as I said, I was shunned 
by every one as if I were some evil. And then would 
come the longing again — the longing for companionship 
— for the sound of a voice more than the sight of the 
cards, but this was the only place where I was welcome, 
as I said. And so it was cards again. At the table 
I could always count on being welcome — I must talk 
with my fellow man. Do you wonder I did it? Here 


114 


THE CONQUEROR. 


was the only place my presence was ever accepted, and 
1 was always received cordially among the ruffians be- 
cause they knew I played fair game. 

“Under these circumstances imagine my opinion of 
religion. I hated the sight almost of a Church and 
laughed at the idea of any faith as I read of the dif- 
ferent beliefs, so long as there was no more charity 
than this in the world. The creed to me was meaning- 
less, and I had no longer any belief in anything that 
was good and true. I might not have been a criminal 
at heart, but circumstances had made me so, as the 
Bishop said in his sermon. It was hard for me to 
know right from wrong, for I had been accused until 
I had begun to believe that I was the meanest human 
being who ever existed on this earth. Consequently, 
there was no good in life for me, and I was going reck- 
lessly on to the end, until a night in an oak grove 
changed the current of my life. Even on that night 
I carried a gag and chloroform in my pocket, but as 
a means of defense, not offense. 

“And can you wonder that I am a criminal Miss 
Grant? I am thirty years old, and have never had a 
caress except from Jacques, and I have never felt the 
loving touch of a woman's hand since the day my moth- 
er died.” 

Helen was weeping and Granard distressed at her 
tears was ashamed almost that he had spoken. He 
must hurry on and in order to lighten her spirits he 
spoke very cheerfully : “But I had forgotten to tell you 
of one thing — one good thing that came my way final- 
ly for fortune smiled on me at last, rewarding me in 
a way for the hardships I had undergone so far as 
poverty goes. Seeing the necessity of a certain de- 
vice very useful and almost indespensible in a mechan- 
ic’s shop, I invented the article, made a model of it and 
had it patented. It has reaped me a large reward 
for today 1 T have more money than I need or know 
what to do with. ' I think I'afri one man who has more 
money than friends and. right recently. I' have, had no 
cause to complain about friendships. A And since meet- 
ing these friends, T believe I am a changed man. Miss 
Grant, do you believd it possible for a man who has 
been a murderer and general reprobate to become a 
Christian?” 


THE CONQUEROR. 


115 


“That is my faith. The key note to our religion is 
that a man may fall and rise again.” 

It was the first time Miss Grant had spoken and her 
voice was as clear and sweet as a silver bell. 

“You give me great hope. Miss Grant, but do you 
believe it possible for me, as a man, ever to rise to the 
level of the perfect womanhood you represent ?” Gran- 
ard’s voice was eager and earnest. 

“I believe anything possible, Mr. Granard, so long 
as the ambition is a true one and undertaken in the 
right spirit.” 

Granard’s face lit with a new wonder. 

“Miss Grant, you are the only good I’ve known in my 
life, since my manhood, and if I had a name to give 
you, I would ask you to be my wife, but I’m not going 
to ask you, though you will be shocked to know that 
I have dreamed of it. I did have such a dream, and 
when I awoke to find it was not true, I brooded over my 
fate of ever being born, until I met you in the hall 
again at the Governor’s mansion, and the sight of 
your face and the sound of your foostep made me 
want to live always. But if such a dream is mad- 
ness, the remainder of my life can at least be a credit 
to your friendship, and I am going to live henceforth 
in a way that will not make you blush to know 
that you have ever spoken my name. And now I am 
going out of your life forever — ” Granard’s head was 
bent low on his breast and the words were spoken in 
scarcely more than a whisper. 

“I know,” he went on, “that I have not the! right to 
look on your face and for me to speak your name is a 
sacrilige, but these few days of you have filled my life 
and made it complete. They have made me a man. 
You will hear no more of Dick Schaft, crook, criminal, 
murderer — but of Richard Granard, citizen, Christian, 
gentleman, for I can not sin if I think of you and a 
man can be a Christian even in prison, can he not? 
But before I leave, I have one wish to be granted — one 
request to make of you, and then I am going to turn 
myself over to the authorities. Til have to give my- 
self up. They have me now, but before I go,” his 
voice softened to a whisper, “I want you to accept this 
token of me and think kindly of me when you look at 
( 17 ) 


116 


THE CONQUEROR. 


it. I don't know what my fate will be, whether death 
or exile, but I want you to promise to keep this." 

He drew from off . bis^finger the diamond ring, the 
setting of which would ^have created the envy of t a 
grand duchess. The ' jewel was flawless and of daz- 
zling lustre. Gran&rd held it off at some distance and 
looking at it thoughtfully, said: “This is sacred to me 
and I have never closed my eyes in sleep at night with- 
out looking, .aj: lit and thinking of the one who gave it, 
and who;>wa3 So dear to me — my mother. It was her 
dying gift. She had five sons and gave each of us 
one at her death. It has been a kind of rosary — one 
bead, I might say and if I ever came near praying, it 
was wlien I touched this ring and thought of her. I 
may not have formed a prayer with my lips, but I can 
not but think there was a prayer from her for my safe- 
ty perhaps. It may have been only a sentiment, this 
feeling, but it has been sacred to me nevertheless — the 
only sacred thing, — except, may I say it ? You. And, 
as I thought a prayer as I looked at it, will you for me ? 
Your prayers may spare me the gallows. I have all 
faith in you.” 

“Keep it as a talisman. You say it has shielded you 
from danger. I can not take this.” 

“Then I will have to trouble again to know how to 
dispose of it, when I thought it would be disposed of 
so easily and satisfactorily. Miss Grant, the time has 
come when I must part with it. Will you wear it for 
awhile for the safety of the ring itself? I may be 
able to explain this to you some time. We will see.” 

Helen lifted her hand, and Granard slipped the ring 
on her finger. 

“You are kind,” he said, gently, “and now — good- 
bye,” the words came slow and labored. His eyes were 
closed and there was an expression of pain, of agony on 
his face. * ■ be 

“There is oiVCfYnore request I have to make of you 
and then I wifi go. Let me take your hand in mine 
once more — only for a ;mdmerit. : - It cannot contaminate 
you — you could not be colltaminafed even by contact 
with so vile a creature as I.” 

His eyes were soft and brown — they could turn from 
black to brown at times in gentler moods — as he look- 
ed up into her own blue eyes, in which the tears were 


THE CONQUEROR. 


117 


yet glistening. She lifted her hand— -she was going 
to say good-bye — it was the signal to le&ye. Instead 
of the pleasure he thought the touch of her hand would 
give him, his heart grew heavy. It would be pain, for 
it would be farewell. He had started to rise, when 
suddenly yielding to the impulse that had been in her 
heart since his story began, Helen leaned over and 
laid her hand on his head. For a moment, it rested 
there 4 and then she began smoothing his dark hair 
gently back from his forehead, while he looked eagerly 
into her eyes to search the meaning in them. It was 
like the touch of a mother for a child, and the look in 
her eyes as tender even, but above this, the touch and 
look of a lover — of more than friend, and Granard was 
thrilled as he had never been, as he realized that what 
he had dared to hope for — pray for was true. He 
was dreaming with his eyes open — he was not alive, he 
was sure. Only her voice could make him believe he 
was living — that it was not a dream. 

She was so moved she could not speak for some time, 
but when at last she found her voice, she said softly: 
“Richard, Richard you have touched my heart, as it 
has never been before, and you must know that I am 
in perfect sympathy with you. I have suspected that 
you were Schaft for several days.” 

Her answer almost took his breath away. 

“But,” she went on, “you are not going to give your- 
self up tq the authorities Richard, and there is a way 
to prove that you are of good birth and of good blood. 
Go back to your father, who has doubtless never cen- 
sured you, and to the brothers who may have blamed 
you for taking the life of their brother, but who are 
by this time no doubt penitent and ready to forgive 
you and tell them of your remorse, and of how you 
have paid the price and I know then that all will be 
well with you. And as mother and Rose Mary and I 
are to go abroad soon, we will visit your father and 
verify your statement as best we can.” 

“Always considerate,” he said, his voice shaken with 
emotion. “Your idea is plausible, Miss Grant, but it 
will be impossible for me to go in person, for I could 
not get to the station. Even today as I came here, 
I was followed to your door by a detective and that 
he has not come in before now, has surprised me 


118 


THE CONQUEROR. 


greatly, for I have expected him every moment, but I 
was determined to explain myself in your eyes, if I 
could tell you only a part of my story. I think I have 
never been so excited over being pursued. I was so 
eager to get to your home and tell you my story. I 
thought I should never reach your door — it seemed 
miles away and my feet seemed to be going to fail me, 
but I reached it at last and you, Angel of Mercy that 
you have ever been to me, were there to let me in. 
And I shrink to go away from here now. They are 
waiting for me outside, for although I intend giving 
myself up, naturally it has it’s horrors for me and i 
am coward enough to stay the moment as long as pos- 
sible/’ 

“Then you must stay here with me. I will conceal 
you somehow/’ Miss Grant declared, but if Granard had 
known, there was no detective v/aiting outside for him. 
However, in his nervous, excited condition, after a 
restless night on a cold, bare floor, he had imagined 
that a man, who, as it happened, walked just half a 
square behind him for some distance had recognized him 
and was in pursuit of him and his imagination had 
carried him so far as it had in regard to his own 
character, for he had been pictured as being a wholly 
bad man so long that he had gotten to believe from the 
papers and accounts of him, that he was the vilest 
creature in existence — a belief that was largely dis- 
credited by one whose opinion was to Granard then 
more than the combined beliefs of all the other inhabit- 
ants on this sordid earth. If Miss Grant had seemed 
credulous in her belief of the first part of Granard’s 
story, she was inclined in her mind to discredit the 
last, or rather to believe he must be mistaken. 

“I can not think there’s any one out side, Richard 
this time, or, as you say, they would come in after you. 
I think perhaps you’re nervous, but to make sure, let 
us go see.” 

They went to the window to look out and while there 
was no one on the premises to be seen, they saw coming 
hurriedly up the street, a blue-coated policeman, the 
one whose face was so familiar to Granard and whom 
he knew knew him so well by sight in return. 

“He is coming for me,” Granard said hoarsely. 

Two terror-stricken hearts turned faint with horror. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


119 


and Miss Grant never knew how it happened, but at 
the thought of having him taken from her — of the 
injustice of it all, of a prison wall for an innocent per- 
son, her heart filled with pity and she was crazed, it 
may be momentarily at the thought of separation, 
but filled with compassion for him, before half realiz- 
ing what she was doing, her arms went 'round Gran- 
ard's neck, where she clung to him trembling half from 
terror, half from joy. And as her arms closely en- 
circled his neck, Granard knew for the first time in his 
life the joy of living. And it might have been an 
act of madness on his part, too, but it was beyond him 
now to be longer sane and his hungry lips sought hers, 
and for one brief moment he held her prisoner in his 
close embrace. To have her soft arms about his neck ! 
The luxury of it — after all these years of wandering 
and pain. Here was the compensation. He could 
have suffered more than he had for this. 

“If this could only be my daily portion," he thought, 
“my life would be her idea of what heaven is." 

A man does not always appreciate the luxury of a 
woman's arms about his neck, accepting it every day 
as the common lot or a wifely duty, perhaps, but if by 
circumstance he were denied or forbidden such an ex- 
pression of devotion, or, if like Granard fate had de- 
creed that the years 'till then for him must be barren 
of affection, they would think their fate a cruel one in- 
deed, and wonder why they had ever been created. 
And yet the arms of many a loving wife have been dis- 
dained. 

There was a ring at the front door bell of the Grant 
homestead. Helen did not know how she ever reached 
the door, but as she opened it a messenger boy was 
standing there with a package to be delivered to Mrs. 
Grant. Helen's heart had begun beating again. It 
had stopped, she was sure at the sight of the police- 
man, but looking up the street, she saw to her relief, 
the policeman hurrying on on some other mission and 
evidently concerned about nothing in her household. 

Helen ran back to Richard, her face radiant with 
happiness, as she told him eagerly of their unexpect- 
ed guest’s mission. Her face was glorious to look on, 
made so by the fact that Richard would not be taken 
away from her then at least, after all, and she told 


120 


THE CONQUEROR. 


him so. And in his gratitude toward her for her 
deep feeling for him, he took her hand in his and lift- 
ed it tenderly to his cheek. He looked down at her, 
but he could not see her. Tears blinded his eyes — the 
first in years, another wonderful experience for him. 
Truly it was an afternoon of miracles. He released 
her hand, at last, and it was here that Mrs. Grant 
entered the hall. She was half startled somehow, as 
she said “alone ?” but in an instant her manner chang- 
ed and she added with calm dignity: “Mr. Granard* 
will you stay for tea with us this evening? Don’t 
decline, please, because I want to make a convenience 
of you this time.” 

Granard looked doubtful, and was saying something 
about being anxious to do her bidding and to be of 
some service, but that he was not sure that it would 
be best for him to stay, when Helen interrupted by say- 
ing graciously: “Why, of course Mr. Granard will 
stay. Now don’t say you have business down town, 
for I know you haven’t the slightest business out. Mr. 
Granard is so accustomed to declining our invitations, 
mother, that it has grown to be quite a habit with him. 
He will be hurting our feelings and we will be think- 
ing he doesn’t want to stay if he persists in this, won't 
we, dear?” 

Then she raised her eyes to his and looked at him 
for a moment. It was the dominating power of a 
woman’s will over a man. About Granard’s handsome 
mouth there was a smile almost boyish in it’s simplic- 
ity. 

“Yes, Mr. Granard will stay Helen,” Mrs. Grant said, 
assuringly, as she read the anxiety on her daughter’s 
face, lest Granard become obdurate. “Now is a good 
time to begin breaking bad habits before feelings are 
hurt,” she said, as she drew a chair for him near her 
own and bidding him be seated, began to display to 
him the plan for the new “Girl’s Home,” she had in 
her hand, which had been submitted to her for ap- 
proval. 

“Mr. Granard will look at these with me, Helen, 
while you go and see that the table is properly set, 
won’t you? Janet is getting very careless and we 
dare not sit down to the table without first inspect- 
ing.” 


THE CONQUEROR. 


121 


Helen disappeared to leave Granard with her moth- 
er, but she glanced back at him over her shoulder, a 
second look of entreaty and Granard knew then, that 
let circumstances be what they may, he must stay, 
and if they came for him — well, Mrs. Grant was a 
sensible woman and would not die of fright, he was 
sure. Granard took the, plans and looked them over. 
He approved of the general outline, but found one 
great fault the architect had overlooked. Mrs. Grant 
was more than pleased) with the discovery. It would 
save them great expense, and the simple arrangement 
he had suggested would do just as well, or better. Then 
Helen reappeared to announce supper and at the table 
Granard was accorded the seat of honor — the one Mr. 
Grant had always occupied before his death. Gran- 
ard's face was flushed with pleasure, and there was 
something very home-like in that gathering. Rose 
Mary insisted on sitting next to Granard on one side, 
for she had grown very fond of him in her baby fash- 
ion, and Helen occupied the seat on the other, with 
Mrs. Grant just opposite him across the table. There 
was not much laughter, but a genial warmth pervaded 
the atmosphere of the room in sweet accord with the 
scent of a rose bowl filled with roses on the table. 

Mrs. Grant sat through the meal in queenly dignity. 
She could hardly define her own feelings. She was 
filled with a strange sadness and yet was never quite 
so pleased, feeling a satisfaction that her heart had 
not known in many years. She had caught sight of 
the ring on Helen's finger, and while it saddened her — 
the thought of giving her up, she was more recon- 
ciled since meeting and knowing Granard than she had 
ever thought would be possible on the subject of her 
daughter's marriage. 


122 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

As they were leaving the table, the dining room 
door opened and a little girl came running breathless- 
ly in with the distressing news that her mother, who liv- 
ed next door had been taken suddenly ill, and she 
begged that Mrs. Grant go with her at once to her. 
It was to the Grant’s that people in distress usually 
turned. Nothing kept them away from duty, unless 
it were a more imperative duty. Mrs. Grant took the 
little girl’s hand in her own, whereupon the little one 
became immediately comforted and dried her tears. 
Mrs. Grant was going to her mother, and that was all 
that was necessary to reassure the child. 

“I don’t know just when I shall be back, Helen, 
but I will leave you and Rose Mary in Mr. Granard’s 
charge until I return. I suppose he is capable of tak- 
ing care of you,” she said smilingly as she and the 
little girl disappeared through the door. It was be- 
tween nine and ten that evening, that Mrs. Grant 
called Helen over the ’phone. 

“Mrs. Aulston is quite ill, Helen, and I can not leave 
her now. I may be here for some hours — I don’t know 
just how long, but if I should not come back before 
bed time, ask Mr. Granard to stay wdth us tonight. It 
may not be a very conventional thing to do, but I think 
anything will be pardonable while Schaft is in town. 
At any rate, I don’t like the idea of you and Rose Mary 
being there alone. Will you ask him, Helen? Oh, no 
there’s no impropriety at my invitation. Very well, 
then, but dear, I think ten o’clock will be late enough 
for you two to sit up tonight — my not being there. 
You know my old Puritanic ideas will still cling to 
me, although I have implicit faith in my daughter.” 

“Very well, then, mother, it shall be ten o’clock, and 
mother, be careful of yourself tonight — not to get 
chilled and catch cold. You know you have some 
children at home who would hate to be left orphans en- 
tirely.” 


THE CONQUEROR. 


123 


“Yes, dear, and now I must hurry back to Mrs. Aul- 
ston. She needs me. Good-night.” 

Miss Grant was laughing when she returned to the 
living room, where Granard sat with Rose Mary on 
his knee. 

. “You have an invitation from mother to spend the 
night and also to retire at ten. Your duties are to 
protect Rose Mary and myself from Schaft and as I 
told mother I was sure you’d stay, I suppose you’ll 
have to now. I hope you won’t get frightened and 
run away when you see Schaft coming.” 

“No, I’m too tired to run tonight. I — that is — I 

didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“Then you must go to your room now, for you need 
rest, I’m sure.” 

It was Rose Mary who saved the situation and it is 
hard to say just how much a six-year-old baby sister 
counts for in this world, and of just how much real 
importance they really are. Miss Grant was very 
grateful to Rose Mary, for she could not but feel a 
slight tinge of embarrassment at being left there alone 
with her guest, although she knew her mother 
was always too sound in her judgment to ever 
make a mistake, and Granard not only appreciated 
fully the situation, but felt that he had no more rights 
then to speak of any sentiment than he ever had, for 
they were not engaged at all, as Mrs. Grant had sup- 
posed, although Helen had accepted the ring from 
him and for some reason Granard felt that, in a way 
the gulf was even wider between them than ever be- 
fore, for the fact that he had made a confession to 
her could not make any material difference in their 
relations to each other, for the world still had an 
opinion on the subject of one Dick Schaft, if Miss 
Grant had her own. 

So Rose Mary’s presence was very welcome to both 
him and Miss Grant. A baby sister can come in nice- 
ly at times. Helen thought so and she was never so 
proud before of the little girl as on this night. She 
drew her up in her arms when Rose Mary ran to her, 
after answering her mother’s call at the ’phone and 
she lay cuddled up as still and quiet as a little mouse, 
but with eyes wide open, nevertheless and glancing 
first at Granard and then her sister, whom she adored. 

(18) 


124 


THE CONQUEROR. 


Granard looked on with admiration. They made a 
very impressive picture somehow. It was so pleasant 
sitting there, looking at them, that when the hands of 
the clock on the mantel rolled ’round to ten, Granard 
began to regret for the first time that clocks had ever 
been invented, but Mrs. Grant’s wishes must be re- 
spected, let the moments be rolling by as happily as 
they may, and it was he who arose lirst in obedience 
to her request. 

Miss Grant stood at the foot of the stairs, and told* 
him where his room was, while Rose Mary clung to 
her hand, begging to be put to bed, for the warm fire 
had made her drowsy, and it had been all Helen could 
do to keep her awake until then. She would not have 
had her go to sleep for worlds any earlier, but now at 
the little girl’s cries she turned willingly enough to 
hurry with her to her mother’s bed room on the first 
floor to get the baby ready for bed. 

“0, you darling, you darling!” Helen cried, as she 
leaned over the drowsy six-year-old baby in her cot a 
few moments afterwards. ‘‘Rose Mary, you were 
never so dear to me before this night.” 

In her woman’s heart Miss Grant had been afraid 
that after her impulsive — and she had begun to feel, 
somewhat unwomanly — advances to Granard in the 
afternoon, he would naturally feel that as much were 
expected of him when an opportunity presented itself 
and this accounted partly for the enthusiasm over 
Rose Mary, although she had always almost wor- 
shipped the baby, even from the day of her birth. 
The night had only drawn her a little closer to her 
and made her a little dearer to her heart was all. 
Miss Grant was very glad baby sisters had been in- 
vented. She blessed them all in her heart henceforth 
and forever more. Granard, too, was impressed with 
the fact that they were rather nice commodities. 

Helen tucked the cover around the little girl’s neck 
and leaned over and kissed her. She was not aware 
of the fact that she was being watched, thinking Gran- 
ard was in his room. The carpeted steps and halls 
would have made it impossible to hear the sound of a 
footstep. Granard was fascinated at the sight and 
why did the scene bring to mind a picture of the Ma- 
donna he had seen in his childhood ? He had never 


THE CONQUEROR. 


125 


thought of it before. It was strange. But this was 
not Granard’s real motive for lingering — shame 
though the thought was even to him. How could he 
reconcile it to his conscience after what had passed 
between them? And had the thought struck Miss 
Grant that his story was not true — that she was alone 
in the house with the real Dick Schaft and at his 
mercy ? 

Granard was concealed just behind a screen in the 
hall, watching her movements through the open door. 
Presently she came from the room and started across 
the hall. Granard’s heart stood still. Evidently she 
had forgotten something that must be attended to in 
the living room and was returning. She passed so 
near him that he could have put out his hand and 
touched her and she was singing softly, in a clear, 
sweet voice; “Abide with me, fast falls the eventide. 
The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide.” 

The song finished just as she closed her bed room 
door, but she did not lock it ! Granard breathed again. 
That was why he had waited. It was a small thing 
— a very small thing, but he wanted to see if she trust- 
ed him. Then he would know if her faith in him were 
complete and this, he felt, was in a way, the proof. 
She believed in him then — there was no doubting. As 
it had never been her custom to lock her bed room 
door, this night need not be the exception. 

With a great sense of shame, Granard turned and 
went noiselessly to his room. In all his life that was 
the nearest to a low thing he had ever done, but here 
his conscience condemned him. Still he could not 
but be glad he had waited to see, as dangerous as the 
experiment had been, for if she had seen him hiding 
there, he would be lost, his story discredited really 
and he would have doubtless been turned over to the 
authorities and justly so then, he felt— under such cir- 
cumstances. 

The room he was assigned to was pretty and inviting, 
being the guest chamber and no one ever entered that 
room without being struck with the individuality and 
taste displayed in it’s furnishings, and contents. The 
comforts of the room had been studied — there was not 
a picture that had not been carefully selected, nor an 
incongruous ornament, nor a framed motto that was 


126 


THE CONQUEROR. 


not an inspiration, and on the table lay an Oxford 
Bible. Granard picked the book up and it fell open 
at the 23rd Psalm : “The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall 
not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pas- 
tures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.” 

He read the Psalm to the end. Then ready for bed, 
he was just in the act of turning out the light when 
a framed motto over the bed attracted his attention, 
for as yet he had not seen it. He stepped forward to 
look at it and this was what he read: “God bless the 
stranger under our roof,” and underneath were the 
lines; “Sleep sweet within this quiet room, 0, thou, 
whoe’er thou art, And let no mournful yesterday, Dis- 
turb thy peaceful heart. Nor let tomorrow scare 
thy rest, With dreams of coming ill. Thy Maker 
is thy changeless friend, His love surrounds thee still. 
Forget thyself and all the world. Put out each fever- 
ish light, The stars are watching overhead — Sleep 
sweet goodnight, good-night-” 

For a long time Granard lay in his bed open-eyed 
thinking, wondering. He had thought he had craved 
sleep after the restless night previous, but the events 
of the afternoon were making him forget the craving 
and presently he arose and dressed himself. He was 
convinced that he did not care to sleep away a night of 
happiness. He wanted to live it and to live over and 
over again in his memory the events of the wonderful 
afternoon just passed. He had had too few happy 
moments to miss them and he had always wanted to 
sleep to drown his troubles. The room was yet comfort- 
ably heated and he drew the curtains aside to the 
windows and sat looking out at the sleeping city. He 
was not aware of the moments that passed by, but 
presently he saw a great light in the East which 
seemed to illumine the entire city with a strange and 
wonderful glow. He was startled as he had never 
been before, as he watched it grow brighter and 
brighter. It was Judgment Day, or the city was 
afire. In thorough alarm Granard leaped from his 
chair and rushing down the stairs to the room in which 
Rose Mary was lying, he snatched the child in his arms. 
A cry from Rose Mary brought Miss Grant. 

“I think the city is afire. Isn’t the city afire T r 
he asked, as he put the child back in her bed in a be- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


127 


wildered way as one in a dream. He glanced at the 
clock on the mantel. It was five o’clock, and the sun 
was rising. Then realizing, in a sort of dazed way, 
the true situation, of the mistake he had made, the 
needless anxiety for little Rose Mary’s safety and of 
Miss Grant’s attire, as she stood robed in her night 
dress, he bowed low and humbly and saying “I implore 
your pardon,” turned and staggered, rather than walk- 
ed out of the room. 

“Poor man. He is ill, or has been dreaming,” Helen 
thought, guessing in a way that he was physically 
overcome. She, too had had a sleepless night. She 
dressed herself hastily and went to find him. He had 
dropped down on a couch in the library; his head was 
bowed in anguish and when she entered the face he 
raised to hers wore an expression of agony and woe. 

“I had sat there by the window only a few moments, 
I thought, when a strange light appeared — and — I was 
startled. I was too happy. The night did not seem 
an hour — it seemed all too short. I had thought it 
was Judgment Day, or that the town was afire. The 
night seemed all too-, short, and the sun that I’ve seen 
rise all my life, astonished and frightened me. And 
now I have forfeited all that has been worth while to 
me in all my wretched life — your good will, but when I 
saw the danger, I thought of you and little Rose Mary, 
and I knew you would want her saved even before 
yourself or your mother. Forgive me,” he implored. 
“I was too happy.” 

It was as he had said, his few days of happiness had 
made him delirious, and he was ill as a result of the 
strain under which he had been — the strain of being 
hounded down and the other hardships he had met 
with. He fell back on the couch and groaned — con- 
scious of nothing but a sweet voice in his ears: “Mr. 
Granard, you have not forfeited my good will — not at 
all. The anxiety for Rose Mary’s and mine and 
mother’s safety you experienced was caused from your 
physical condition. Think no more of this. We think 
no less of you for it, but more,” she said, in tones that 
made Richard Granard glad he had thought it was 
Judgment Day. 

Mrs. Grant was not at all alarmed at his condition, 


128 


THE CONQUEROR. 


but she was deeply concerned. That he had fever, 
accounted easily for his strange conduct. 

'‘You must get back to your bed Mr. Granard, and 
Helen we must have the doctor at once,” Mrs. Grant, 
who had just entered the room, said. She was a very 
practical woman and not in the least excitable, never 
losing her equilibrium in emergencies, but always keep- 
ing her poise, cultivated though the characteristic 
might be to some extent. 

Granard was submissive, obeying her commands au- 
tomatically, though scarcely conscious of what he was 
doing. 

When the doctor came, he found his patient still 
unconscious, and for three days he was oblivious to all 
that was going on about him, only in his imagination 
some spirit seemed to be hovering over him so gentle 
and sympathetic that it made him forget the pain he 
suffered. After three days of oblivion, he was con- 
scious of a face bending closely over his own, looking 
anxiously down at him. Granard opened his eyes on 
a pair of blue ones. 

“I thought you were dying, Richard.” 

“Dying? Fm just beginning to live.” 

Helen turned to her mother and putting her hand in 
hers, said: “Our prayers are answered, mother. You 
know Dr. Armstead said that after this morning we 
might have every hope.” 

“Yes, yes Helen, we have much to be thankful for. 
There is no reason now why Mr. Granard should not 
get better at once. And now child, go to your room 
and rest. These three days of watching have told on 
you some. Til look after Mr. Granard now and will 
not let a thing pass neglected, and if he shows the 
slightest symptom of growing worse, IT1 come right to 
you. Mr. Granard will not feel neglected now. He 
couldn’t after you have been so faithful.” 

Granard was deeply concerned. “Indeed, you must 
rest Miss Helen,” he insisted, looking up into her care- 
worn face, the result of her anxiety for him and the 
three days vigil. 

True, either her mother and a trained nurse, who 
had been summoned, were one or the other of them 
always with him to administer to his comforts and 
wants, but they could not relieve the anxiety of her 


THE CONQUEROR. 


129 


mind, or quiet her troubled spirit. She had been at 
his bed side most of the time, and when she was not 
there, she was too concerned to really rest or sleep 
soundly, for she had almost despaired of his ever 
recovering. It was wonderful how changed her ex- 
pression was, however, when she heard Granard's voice 
intelligently again for the first time in these seemingly 
interminable three days. In his delirium he had 
talked some, but he had not spoken of the present, he 
seemed to be living in the past. 

“Worth, come back, come back,” he would cry out in 
almost childish tones, and then he would say fervently, 
“Lord, take me, but let Worth live.” 

It was heart-rending to Helen, who understood so 
well of what he was talking, and if she had had cause 
to doubt the truth of his story about the lad Worth, 
this would have convinced her that there were no 
doubts of its being true, for Granard could not have 
been deceiving when he was unconscious. 

“You must not trouble over things that are past, and 
can’t be avoided — you must not trouble about any- 
thing, Richard, for you can’t get well if you do — and 
you must get well, for my sake if no other. I have 
not lived these last few days for nothing and had I 
not been rewarded for my labors in nursing you, I’m 
•afraid for the first time in my life I’d have been rebel- 
lious. An4 now that the danger has passed and you 
seem so much better, I’ll leave you to mother. We 
Southern girls think it isn’t becoming for a young lady 
to stay in a gentleman’s bed room unless it is abso- 
lutely necessary or — we think he is dying. It is not 
considered conventional, but mother will make a good 
nurse. — ” 

“Yes, mother will make a good nurse,” he repeated 
after her. 

Mother! There was a world of meaning in the word 
to him then for some reason. The name seemed al- 
most too sacred to pass his lips and yet his mind lin- 
gered on it. 

“But before I go, you must take this medicine,” 
Helen said, holding up a glass, which he had found 
contained a very unpalatable drink. “You have refused 
to take it from any one but me. But you’ll be good 


130 


THE CONQUEROR. 


now, and take it from mother, I know, for remember 
— I have to be conventional.” 

“It is very! bitter,” he said, “but Til take it if you’ll 
come to the door, and let me look at you every time 
the two hours come ’round and I’ll get well then, I 
know. I would even without the medicine if you did 
not fail to keep your promise. Couldn’t I take it every 
hour instead of two? That will seem a long time to 
wait.” 

“0, no, no,” Helen cried in mock alarm. “An over- 
dose or too frequent, either would be bad for you, so 
you must be satisfied with what the directions say and 
follow the doctor’s instructions.” 

“I’ll be satisfied if I know you are resting, for you 
look fatigued,” he said, seriously now, looking up at 
the worn face anxiously. 

“Very well, then, if it will be any satisfaction to you 
to know I’m going and obey your commands, and if 
mother and the nurse are not nice to you, you may re- 
port to me| by wireless telegraphy.” 

She was gone and hurrying to her room, threw her- 
self across the bed, for she was very tired from the 
long watch at Granard’s bed side, but even after she 
lay down she could not sleep, as many hours of rest 
as she had lost in the last few days, for her conscience 
was troubling her. Had she ever deceived her moth- 
er in any one thing in her life? She who had been 
the companion of her babyhood, her childhood and 
womanhood, and whose sympathy she had always ac- 
cepted and whose counsel had been to her a never - 
failing guide ; and were not she and Granard deceiving 
heii in keeping their secret? Did Mrs. Grant not de- 
serve to be taken into their confidence as to Granard’s 
identity, and have her wishes respected as to whether 
Granard were a fit inmate of her household or not, now 
that he was able to be removed to other quarters if it 
were Mrs. Grant’s wish? 

Mrs. Grant tip-toed into the room to see if Helen 
were resting comfortably and to administer to her 
comforts if need be, for she must be very tired. She 
leaned over the bed to draw the cover around her shoul- 
ders, and discovered her daughter with her eyes open. 

“Not sleeping yet, daughter? I had hoped you would 
be. Mr. Granard has fallen asleep, and I left him with 


THE CONQUEROR. 


131 


the nurse long enough to come and see if there were 
anything you needed.” 

Ever thoughtful mother. Had she ever failed to 
look for the “needs,” and supply them as soon as they 
were found wanting? Helen’s heart was stricken 
with’ its pain. She looked up into the face of her 
handsome mother — for Mrs. Grant was a very hand- 
some woman — with an expression of such pathos that 
Mrs. Grant was touched before she knew the meaning. 

“He will get well, daughter, have no fears,” she said, 
soothingly. 

“But it isn’t that, mother.” 

Isn’t that? Then, what is it?” 

“It is you.” 

“I?” 

“O, mother. There is something my heart says I 
must tell you — and yet — it — may make — us — strang- 
ers to each other.” 

“Strangers ? And how could that be possible, daugh- 
ter? Do you think that what your heart tells you 
to do could change the tide of our affections after all 
these years? It must take something very terrible 
indeed to do that.” 

“It is something very terrible, or at least you will 
think so mother. We are not entertaining Richard 
Granard in our home. We are entertaining — ” 

“Dick Schaft.” 

“Mother!” 

“He has told me so. In his delirium, when you and 
the nurse were out of the room, as it happened, he told 
me all.” 

It was beautiful to see the expression of relief which 
rested on Helen’s face. That her mother was no longer 
deceived — her conscience cleared by an admission of it 
all, or rather a would-be admission, for Helen was 
ready to confide everything and that she did not dis- 
approve of Granard’s presence in the home, had taken 
a cloud from her mind, a shadow that had been hov- 
ering over her for some days like a cloud away, as 
suddenly as the sunlight breaks forth in all its splendor 
on a gloomy, sunless day. 

“And do you believe his story is true, mother?” 
Helen asked, awaiting breathlessly her reply. 

“I do, indeed, Helen. In all my observation and all 
( 19 ) 


132 


THE C02Sr<rUE.TOE. 


my acquaintance with the characters in history, I do 
not believe I have ever heard of any one being more 
misjudged, more misunderstood or unjustly treated 
than Mr. Granard. Even if he had killed a boy 
in his childhood, it was really an accident in a way and 
is his life to be a torment because Fates were once 
unkind to him? I think not, if my Bible is true and! 
my God as I believe Him. Do you love Mr. Granard, 
Helen ?” 

For answer, Helen flung her arms about her moth- 
er's neck. 

"Love him? Is there another more meaningful 
word? If there were, mother, I could tell you how 
much I love him perhaps. But, mother, without your 
approval — even — now — I — could — give — him — up.” 

The words cost her an effort, but they were sincere, 
Mrs. Grant knew. 

"I do not ask this of you, daughter, but we must 
know something more of Mr. Granard — his family 
and all before we allow our hearts to govern us alto- 
gether. I, too, have my heart set on him as my 
daughter s husband, for I admire Mr. Granard more 
than any man I have known since I knew your fath- 
er, but we must follow discretion as well as valor in 
the choice of a husband, my dear. Remember, the 
Grants and Caldwells — her maiden name— come from 
a long line of good ancestry. I do not ask you not to 
love Mr. Granard. I do not say you can not marry 
him, but I do say it will be unlike a Caldwell to run 
any risks, and you must remember, too, that we came 
from a long line of good women also. There has never 
been a blot on either the name of Grant or Caldwell 
in our family that I know of, and I am sure you are too 
chaste and womanly to be able to withstand dishonor 
or to bring the first blot on the pages of its history. 
Think this out for yourself, but if by chance it should 
prove Mr. Granard is of as good birth as Helen Grant, 
then — I congratulate you — and Richard Granard.” 

"Then we will wait and see. A family history must 
be respected, mother. I have the faith in Mr. Granard 
that would remove mountains, but if he is as I judge 
him, he will not want to offer me a name that I could 
not honor. Mother, Mr. Granard and I are not en- 
gaged. This is only a keep-sake,” Helen explained. 


THE COEQUEROB. 


m 


holding the ring she referred to up before Mrs, Grant’s 
eyes. 

Mrs. Grant looked immeasurably relieved. 

“I was sure you would not do this, and I was sure, 
too, the night I first saw the ring on your finger that 
you had. O, Helen what a pleasure, what a joy you 
are to my heart. Child, I have never regretted you. 
You have always seemed to realize the duty of a child 
to it’s parents, and it has drawn you so close to me." 

“But, mother, when I tell you all, I am afraid you 
will yet regret me, for I have almost begun to regret 
myself. In a moment of impulse, I threw my aims 
around Mr. Granard’s neck and allowed him to kiss 
me.” 

Mrs. Grant’s face wore a troubled look. She was 
thoughtful for some moments. Mrs. Grant had met 
her first disappointment in her daughter. 

“It is her first offense to me — really her first of- 
fense, and how can I reprimand ? I can only hope that 
she will never live to regret it,” Mrs. Grant thought and 
she was generous enough to lean over and kiss the 
lips of her daughter with all the tenderness of her 
mother heart. The mark of sympathy did Helen a 
world of good, for while she did not know Mrs. Grant’s 
real feelings in the matter, her mother was at least 
not angry, she believed, and that was very comforting 
to Helen just then in her state of mind, for Helen, too, 
had begun to regret, but when Mrs. Grant had left the 
room, like a tired child she fell back among the pillows, 
and closed her aching eyes and fell asleep. 

Helen may have had her regrets and doubts as to 
whether she really loved Granard after all, or not, but 
the doubtsi at least were soon to vanish in the face of 
parting, for the time must soon come. On returning 
to Granard’s room, several hours later, she found him 
in great distress. A paper he held in his hands and 
which he handed over to her without comment, ex- 
plained all. The headlines in the article contained 
the startling announcement that “Schaft had at last 
been captured.” 

The news came from Springfield, Missouri, and the 
paper stated that Schaft was known absolutely to have 
been in Springfield on the second day of October, and 
this same man had returned and was at that moment 


134 


THE CONQUEROR. 


behind the bars safely awaiting a trial. It gave pic- 
tures and descriptions of Schaft and also of the wife 
and six children at home, representing the wife as 
heart broken and forsaken and the children weeping 
around her. The wife Eacl tried, but in vain to prove 
her husband’s innocence. It was a pathetic picture, 
and as Helen looked at it there was a lump in her 
throat. However, she did not seem particularly trou- 
bled. 

“What do you think of it, Richard ?” she asked, look- 
ing down at him when she had finished the article. 

“Think ? I think I must get out of this bed at once 
and go and prove this man’s innocence.” 

' “Richard!” Helen was troubled, and her face had 
turned a deadly white. 

“But you are innocent, Richard,” she protested. 

“And so is this man,” Richard added, “and that is 
why I must go. I was in Springfield on the second 
and in some way they have this poor fellow confused 
with me. But it will be hard for me to give myself 
up — to go from you forever. One minute I think I 
can and that it is right for me to and the next, when 
I think of you and my innocence, I falter — but I leave 
it with you. What is my duty? You who know the 
meaning of the word so well. Shall I stay or go?” 

Helen was still white and silent. She thought of 
all Richard Granard was to her — of the future for them 
— her own happiness and if she had doubted for an in- 
stant her love for him, the doubts were gone now, but 
with all this she could not get the picture of that 
stricken wife and those grieving children out of her 
mind. For awhile she stood silently looking down 
at the pale face of the man she loved, and she thought 
of his past — of the many injustices done him and again 
of the future for them, ibut even above this she could 
not hesitate where another’s life were at stake, and so 
she met the eyes of Richard Granard bravely and said 
slowly, but steadily : “Yes, Richard, you must go.” 

She had passed his death sentence, but it was honor 
and honor must come before love. His death knell 
had been sounded from the lips of the woman he loved, 
but he had no complaint to make, for honor must come 
before love. He himself might be innocent it was 
true, but there was every evidence that the captured 


THE CONQUEROR. 


135 


man was thought to be himself, and in letting another 
innocent man suffer — a husband and father — he, Gran- 
ard would be innocent no longer. 

“I can think of no way,” Helen said, after some 
moments in which both had been silent, “but I believe 
God will show us a way. I believe so in prayer.” 

“Then pray, Helen. I have always loved duty until 
now, but this time my courage fails me.” 

Helen laid her hands on the foot of the brass bed, 
and closing her eyes for some moments, prayed silently, 
while Granard lay looking up at her watching the beau- 
tiful expression on her face, the beautiful expression 
of faith. He was strangely moved as he felt that all 
would be well. He did not half know the effort it 
had cost her to say he must go, nor what her emotions 
were just then — the nearest to bitterness and rebellion 
her heart had ever known. It was a greater trial 
than one could bear surely, she thought, but just be- 
fore her heart was broken, her mother came into the 
room. In her hands she held an extra edition of the 
daily. She had read the earlier account of the arrest 
of Schaft, and she knew Granard must be anxious to 
know the latest developments. 

“They have liberated the man thought to be Schaft, 
in Springfield,” she cried. “He has proven his inno- 
cence.” 

“God has shown us the way. He has never failed 
me,” Helen said, gently. 

It had been a trying experience for them, Helen felt, 
but it might have been for a purpose, for Richard 
Granard had been shown the power of prayer. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


136 


CHAPTER X, 


A second invitation from the Governor was received 
by Granard, but this time it was not a reception, vpr 
delivered verbally, but a note handed him by Miss. 
Grant, which the Governor had instructed her to take 
him. Helen had confided to the Governor that Gran- 
ard had been taken suddenly ill at their home, and that 
he was still with thepi recuperating' until he should b» 
able to leave for his home in France, which would be 
only a few days at best, for he was almost entirely 
well then, Helen explained. 

The invitation was another appointment to call on 
the first evening Granard was able to leave his rooms. 
Granard felt that he was able to respond on the fol- 
lowing evening, and he was carefully wrapped by Mrs. 
Grant and Helen and put into the carriage, when he 
was driven post haste to the mansion. 

“Drive fast, Thomas,” Helen had said to the faithful 
coachman. “Mr. Granard must not be kept out in the 
night air too long. He might catch cold.” 

“I wonder what the Governor wants with Mr. Gran- 
ard. I know it is something nice, some courtesy he 
wants to show him or something for mother’s and my 
sakes, if not for Mr. Granard himself, though I be- 
lieve Governor Morgan has been somewhat captivated 
too, by Mr. Granard, which goes to prove what a sen- 
sible Governor we have,” Helen thought, after Thomas 
had promised to deliver his charge at the mansion 
promptly, and she stood watching them until they 
were out of sight. 

Like Miss Grant, Granard himself could not but won- 
der what the Governor could want with a conference 
with him, but he was not held long in doubt, for it was 
only a five-minutes drive to the mansion, and the Gov- 
ernor himself met him at the door and, after bidding 
him good evening, Governor Morgan put a note in the 
coachman’s hands, with orders to deliver it to Miss 
Grant as soon as he should return home, and then turn- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


137 


ing back to Granard, took his hand and held it for a 
moment in silence, looking him steadily in the eye. It 
'was personality and personality — magnetism and mag- 
netism. Each man had recognized the traits in the 
other and were appreciative. Then the Governor 
spoke for the first time. 

“Come in, Mr. Granard.” 

That was all he said. Granard followed him into 
the study, and the Governor closed the door. 

“I addressed you as Mr. Granard, perhaps I should 
have said Schaft.” 

The Governor studied his companion’s face carefully* 
but there was no change of expression. Granard was 
too accustomed to surprises to ever be surprised. A 
long silence followed. 

“Granard— I shall call you this because I confess I 
like to think of you as Granard — this is the hardest 
experience I have ever met with in my life. I know 
there is a reward of $10,000 for your capture, but 1 
would give $10,000 now if I were ignorant, for this one 
occasion of the meaning of the word duty — if it could 
be obliterated from the English vocabulary for this 
one night. But a Governor who is half a Governor 
can have no sentiments. He must be true to his 
vows, and I have promised to defend my state and 
be its friend. And to prove my friendship to my state 
and others, I must expose you Granard for reasons. 
We must be defended. I do not speak of this strange 
fascination you hold over me, of the fact that you in- 
terest me and that I crave the companionship of such 
a man as yourself if things were different — that is 
nothing — I am not in the least to be considered, but I 
refer to the child of my life time friend, comrade and 
benefactor — the man who once offered his life to save 
mine, who loved me as a brother, who was the grandest 
mortal ever created in the flesh, a living saint and 
arch angel and whom I adored and worshipped — Bever- 
ly Grant. 

“And do you think I could be true to his memory or 
my vows to him on his dying bed to watch over his 
wife and two daughters and fill his place in protecting 
them as much as it were in my power to do so? That 
if I would promise this he would die satisfied. And 


138 


THE CONQUEROR. 


now that the time has come, do you think I should fail 
him ? Richard Granard you don't know me, or I don't 
know the heart in my own breast if either you or I 
think I shall break that promise to my friend in this, 
my first opportunity to prove my loyalty to him. For 
to win the friendship and confidence of a woman as 
pure, as immaculate, as saintly as Helen Grant, when 
one is unworthy of even breathing her name, is an act 
that I, as a man, even if I were not Governor, nor un- 
der promise for her protection must resent. I am 
not after the $10,000, Mr. Granard. I am after the 
happiness of Helen Grant." 

“Of course, I know you have won nothing but her 
confidence and regard and that Miss Grant's interest in 
you has been from the standpoint that you are a 
stranger in the city and welcome and she hopes to get 
you interested in the amenities of life, but there is 
the possibility of this young girl learning to love you 
eventually, for even a Schaft can inspire love in a wom- 
an's heart, unless it is prevented in time, and God be- 
ing my helper, that is what I intend doing." 

Granard could hear no more. >jVith a wild gesture 
of entreaty he begged the Governor to listen to him for 
a few moments before he judged too harshly. And 
then Granard told his story in the same straightfor- 
ward way that he had related it to Miss Grant, omit- 
ting only a few of the details, and when he had finished 
there were tears in the Governor’s eyes. 

“But how am I to know that this is true? What 
proof have I that you are not deceiving?" 

“Nothing but my word," Granard said simply. 

The Governor's heart, had softened and there was a 
lump in his throat, but as he thought once again of 
his vows to his state, of the oath he had taken and of 
his promise to his friend and of the future of Helen 
Grant above all, he thought: “What right have I, a 
Governor to be affected by a story? Am I a weakling 
that such a recital should influence me in the crucial 
moment and make me hesitate? I have been almost 
as deeply affected at a performance at the theatre and 
yet it was all sham. And what assurance have I that 
this is not as that?" 

With a firm set jaw, and a voice that was ringing 


THE CONQUEROR. 


139 


with determination, the Governor turned to Granard 
and said: “Mr. Granard, I like your story and your 
manner of telling it, but I can not forget that I am 
Governor simply because you have the power to bring 
tears to my eyes. I only wish that I had proof here 
of what you say being true, but as I have not, I must 
do my part. Will you go into this next room lor >\ 
moment ?” 

Granard was submissive and obeyed as the Governor 
held the draperies aside for him, which hung above 
the opening to the adjoining room. Then he dropped 
the curtains and quickly crossing the room to the 
drawing room, asked Miss Grant, who was seated near 
Mrs. Morgan, showing her a new pattern in embroid- 
ery, if she would come to his study for he had some- 
thing to say to her. The note he had sent by the 
coachman was a request that Miss Grant return at 
once in her carriage and spend the evening with Mrs. 
Morgan, also explaining that he himself; wished to see 
her for awhile during the evening. Helen was startled 
to detect that the Governor’s voice sounded strangely 
as he spoke, and that he was very pale when he en- 
tered the room and her heart almost failed her, for 
she intuitively surmised that something had gone 
wrong with Granard. But she arose composedly and 
followed the Governor to his study, and her first ques- 
tion on entering the room was to know what had be- 
come of Granard. 

“He has gone into the other room,” the Governor ex- 
plained calmly, and as Miss Grant knew that the Gov- 
ernor would not deceive either herself or any one, she 
was satisfied with the explanation. 

“Helen,” Governor Morgan said softly, taking Miss 
Grant’s hand in his own, for he had known her since 
her babyhood and to him she was still a child, “I have 
always been a friend to you since your father died, and 
tried to prove to you that I was always ready to show 
my interest in you, have I not?” 

“0, yes,” Helen answered warmly. “You and Mrs. 
Morgan have both been more than friends to us always 
and especially since father died.” 

“And you are sure that I would do nothing to wound 
or pain you Helen, though I might be rewarded hand- 
( 20 ) 


140 


THE CONQUEROR. 


somely with this world’s goods by doing so?” 

“Indeed I’m sure, Governor. There is nothing that 
could make me believe! you would do such a thing, for 
I know you would not be guilty of such an act as you 
speak of, either in regard to myself or any one in whom 
you were not interested in the least, were they a repro- 
bate, for you have too high a sense of justice Govern- 
or, and I like to think of our Governor as such a man 
as you.” 

“I am glad you look at it this way Helen, although 
I may not be worthy of such a thought, but I am 
afraid the time has come when you will doubt your 
own beliefs in your Governor, for I have something to 
say to you Helen, which is going to be a surprise and 
may cause you some pain, I don’t know. You must 
prepare yourself for something like a shock. If you 
were an ordinary girl, I would have to go about this in 
a different way, I suppose, but you are a brave girl, and 
1 know I can count on you.” 

Miss Grant had a, faint suspicion that the Governor 
was thinking of Granard, and although she had turned 
a shade paler, she calmly bade him tell her at once 
what it was he wished to say to her. 

“Helen, would it surprise you to know that those 
jewels you wear on your hand, which your father gave 
you before his death were mere stones — not genuine 
at all, but glittering glass and worthless?” 

Helen’s answer was that it would surprise her very 
much indeed. 

“Then would it surprise you to know that Mr. Gran- 
ard is not worthy of your friendship — not a character 
to put his foot across your threshold — that Mr. Gran- 
ard is— Schaft?” 

To the Governor’s complete astonishment Helen 
made no reply, and she was as calm as she had ever 
been in his presence. He had expected an outcry and 
that he would have to call Mrs. Morgan for assistance, 
but it was the Governor himself who was surprised. 
He could hardly believe his own eyes. Was it little 
Helen Grant — the girl he had thought he had known 
and understood so well since her babyhood, or was it 
a statute? Governor Morgan thought that if Helen 
Grant did not have her ideas in life of the require- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


141 


ments of what it takes to constitute a gentleman and 
that if she could countenance the acts of a crook, who 
then remained to know the difference between right 
and wrong? Would his wife come in and announce 
that she, even she, too, had turned reprobate, within the 
last moment? It would not have surprised the Gov- 
ernor had she appeared and proclaimed the change. 
Nothing would have surprised him then. If Helen 
Grant had begun to countenance wrong, there was the 
possibility of anything liappening, however absurd. 

“Governor Morgan, there is nothing startling to me 
in what you have told me,” Helen said, at length. “I 
am well aware of the fact that Mr. Granard has been 
suspected as Schaft. He has told me all.” 

There was a shade of triumph in her tones as the 
words were spoken. 

“And you believe the story?” the Governor asked, 
looking at her incredulously. 

Miss Grant’s head was lifted proudly, as she answer- 
ed stoutly: “I do.” 

The Governor had become somewhat aroused. “And 
do you pretend to put your judgment — you an inno- 
cent, unsophisticated girl, against mine? I, a man of 
the world, who am well acquainted with all the vices of 
mankind, even though I might not have participated 
in them myself?” 

“Now, Governor, I intimated nothing of the kind — 
putting my judgment against yours. I merely said 
that I am aware that Mr. Granard has been suspected 
as Schaft, and that I do not believe it.” 

“That is true,” Governor Morgan agreed, “but Helen 
there was a suggestion of rebellion in your manner 
from the first, and I saw at once that it would be a hard 
matter to convince you that you are wrong in your be- 
lief — that you are over generous to Granard, but my 
dear, as a friend of your father and mother, as a friend 
to yourself, I must take the liberty to suggest to you 
that I do not approve of your attitude towards Mr. 
Granard and that, furthermore, I shall have to tell you 
that I can not stand by indifferently and see you per- 
mit a thief to impose his society on you.” 

“And how can you prevent it ?” Helen asked, looking 
up at the Governor inquiringly. “The Governor has 


142 


THE CONQUEROR. 


a great deal of authority over his statesmen, I admit, 
but he has none over a woman’s heart.” 

Governor Morgan did not appear to have heard the 
last part of her remark. “Prevent it? I can do as 
I intend doing — call the police and have him put in 
prison, where he should have been all these years,” and 
Governor Morgan laid his hand suggestively on the 
telephone at his desk. 

A deatli-like silence followed for a moment, and then 
there was a stifled cry, and a scream and Helen was 
on her knees at the Governor’s feet the next instant, 
trying vainly to speak, but her voice had left her. A 
few broken sobs was the only sound audible in the still- 
ness of the room, and the Governor who thought he 
was being a friend, perceived as he looked down at the 
agonized face, turned so pityingly up to him, that he 
had only brought sorrow, where he was trying to pre- 
vent it. 

“My child,” he said tenderly, seeing the distress that 
he had evidently caused, “what is it that you should 
be so disturbed by my telling you of this ? Are your 
sympathies so aroused for this poor unfortunate and 
you don’t like the idea of his being sent to prison, or 
do you really like Mr. Granard ?” 

For the first time Helen had found her voice: “I 
love him!” she cried. 

“Love him ?” the Governor gasped, looking at her in- 
credulously. 

Yes, I love him, and Governor Morgan you can not, 
you will not expose him— you will not,” she said chok- 
ingly, the tears coursing down her cheeks. She had 
taken the Governor s hands within her own and was 
looking up appealingly into his eyes. By this time 
she was sobbing like a child in distress and the Gov- 
ernor’s heart filled with pity, as he realized that he had 
touched the deepest chord of her nature and that he 
had wounded her deeply where he had hoped to be 
helpful to her. Here he was endeavoring to keep 
his promise to his friend, Helen’s father, and yet he 
had been the one to bring her first real sorrow to her, 
since the grief caused by her father’s death. The 
Governor’s great heart was filled with sadness. Helen 


THE CONQUEROR. 


143 


saw that his face had softened and that there was a 
mist in his eyes. 

‘‘You will not do this Governor Morgan, you will not. 
Will you promise me ?” 

The Governor Hif ted her tenderly to her feet. 

‘There, I knew you could not be heartless, Governor 
Morgan. I have always been proud of our Governor, 
but never so proud as now.” 

But the Governor made no reply. He was running 
his fingers thoughtfully around his watch chain and 
looking intently into the fire, a perplexed expression 
on his brow. Presently he began pacing the floor. 
That tear-stained face before him was giving him the 
biggest problem the Governor had ever undertaken to 
solve in all the history of! his service to his state. 

“A Governor and a friend. One can not be both! 
Ah! God, if I could only give her her wish and yet 
do what is right without offending conscience and state. 
But I can not — I can not — I can not see my way out 
of this. God show me the way,” he prayed. 

“Governor you hesitate when the happiness of two 
lies in your hand? I know you do not care for the 
$10,000, and what satisfaction can it be to you to 
know that you have sent an innocent man to prison for 
life ? Is your duty so impelling as this ?” 

Governor Morgan turned and put out his hands ap- 
pealingly to his companion. There was an expression 
of utter hopelessness very much like despair on his 
face. 

“Helen can you suggest a way? Do you think it my 
duty to let him escape because you believe him inno- 
cent? Child, there is a way— think of it— think,” the 
Governor cried, looking up helplessly. 

Helen made no answer at once, but presently she 
cried exultantly :— “the Bishop — send for the Bishop.” 

A great expression of relief covered the Governors 
countenance. 

“Of course, of course, the very idea — the Bishop,” 
he cried, excitedly and an instant later he was com- 
municating with Bishop Northern over the 'phone. 

“Come as quickly as you can,” the Governor urged. 

Ten minutes later a very breathless and wondering 
Bishop was standing in the presence of a very pale 


144 


THE CONQUEROR. 


and agitated Governor — and, incidentally, a very beau- 
tiful and lovely young woman. Bishop Northern per- 
ceived that something had gone wrong and very wrong- 

“Have you two been quarrelling ?" he asked laugh- 
ingly, but he was inclined to put all joking aside as 
soon as he saw Helen's tear-stained face. 

“I only wish it were that," Governor Morgan said,, 
“for I think I could see my way out of such a situa- 
tion, but Bishop a sage could not show wisdom enough 
to get out of the plight we're in just now," and then 
the Governor explained the whole affair to the Bishop. 

“And Miss Helen loves him/' Bishop Northern asked, 
jubilantly. “Lord! I've almost prayed for this. 
Morgan, you're the most unappreciative man I ever saw 
for situations. Don’t you know a man's soul is going 
to be saved by her love, and don't you realize that this 
is of more importance than a $10,000 reward, or your 
duty to your state? If you send Granard to prison 
now, and make him think that Miss Helen has lost 
faith in him and that he has forfeited her good opin- 
ion, he’ll go to hell as sure as there’s one to go to and 
you will be held to answer for a weightier question 
than you've got before you now. You will have to 
account to your Maker for that. Now, which do you 
think a greater problem, Morgan, the affairs of state, 
or the saving of a man's soul? I've suspected that 
Granard is thought to be Schaft for some time, but I 
have my reasons to believe he's innocent." 

Governor Morgan was not given to being demonstra- 
tive on any and all occasions, but by the time the words 
were finished, he was certainly hugging the Bishop and 
hugging him tightly around the neck. 

“You ought to be Governor, Bishop. You see you 
are much better capacitated to fill the position than I, 
for you know just what to do in emergencies." 

It was here that Granard entered the room to Hel- 
en’s and the Bishop’s surprise. Helen stepped eager- 
ly forward to meet him, but Granard held her off with a 
gesture. His face was pale and haggard, but he spoke 
firmly and with his head well lifted and an expression 
of pride shining in his eyes, said : “Let the Governor 
do as his conscience dictates before Miss Grant or the 
Bishop even are either considered. If the Governor 


THE CONQUEROR. 


145 


still has his doubts, he must make himself sure. Miss 
Helen, I can not take your hand without the Governor's 
permission." 

“But you have my permission, Mr. Granard,” Gov- 
ernor Morgan said, stepping quickly forward, and he 
took Miss Helen's hand and put it in Granard’s. 

Granard bowed low in profound appreciation. 
“Thank you, Governor," he said, deeply touched, and 
then he turned to Bishop Northern and with Helen's 
hand still in his own, said, in tones of profound rever- 
ence: “My deepest gratitude to you, Bishop Northern. 
You were the first to tell me of Heaven, and now you 
place Heaven in my hands. You have shown me the 
way not only to the joys of the world to come, but you 
have made this earth a Heaven in advance. I can 
hardly see how good angels can be any better than the 
people who, it seems now inhabit this earth." 

Just here Mrs. Morgan came into the room, and 
Helen ran to her and threw her arms about her neck. 
Then she burst into a fresh flood of tears. 

“Crying, daughter?" Mrs. Morgan asked, in a sweet, 
motherly fashion. “Why, what is troubling you, my 
dear?” 

Helen explained that it was — because — she was — so 
happy, and then she dried her tears and the very next 
moment was laughing like a happy-hearted school girl, 
and then she explained the cause of her exuberance to 
Mrs. Morgan. “And Governor Morgan is not going 
to expose him at all. He is convinced that Mr. Gran- 
ard is not Schaft." 

“I told him so all along," Mrs. Morgan said trium- 
phantly. “Wayne has been trying to make me believe 
for a week that Mr. Granard is Schaft, and I knew he 
was mistaken. 0, Mr. Granard, I am so glad that the 
Governor doesn't know it all. We had our first dis- 
agreement about you and I'm so glad it turned out 
that I was right. Governor will take my word for it 
the next time we disagree." 

“There will be no 'next time,' my dear, but if there 
should be, I only hope it will end as satisfactorily as 
this. What do you say Helen?" 

“I say just what the Bishop is thinking — ” 


146 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“Which is that we must protect Mr. Granard while 
he remains in our city with our lives, if need be.” 

“Agreed!” the Governor cried. “Bishop, I will do 
my part.” 

“And I,” Mrs. Morgan, echoed. 

“And I,” Helen sang cheerily. 

The clock on the mantel chimed twelve, while Gran- 
ard was trying to conjecture what he should say to 
express his gratitude, but the Governor did not give 
him time for this, for the clock's stroke had reminded 
him that it was time to retire, and that at twelve all 
good people were usually in their beds. 

“You must remain with us tonight Mr. Granard, and 
all the rest of the time that you are in the city. 
I think it is hardly wise for you to run the slightest 
risk now, for all the police and detective forces in town 
are on the alert and — any way it will be safer for you 
to stay here with us.” 

“Yes, the blue room is ready Mr. Granard, and we 
will be glad to have you just as long as you will stay.” 

Granard was more deeply touched than before at all 
these kindnesses, but it was not necessary to say so, for 
everybody understood. Then Granard realized that 
he was not perfectly happy after all, for a sweet voice 
was saying “good-night,” and he knew he would be un- 
happy until he heard that voice again next day. 

“I'll be around tomorrow,” Helen promised sooth- 
ingly, when it was agreed that it would be best for 
the Bishop to see her home, for it would be unwise for 
Granard to venture out again that night, even on this 
mission. 

Alone in the “blue room,” Granard dropped on his 
knees by the bed and a more fervant or earnest prayer, 
perhaps never passed the lips of mortal man. He 
thanked God for life, and the privilege of living — for 
the compliment shown him in creating him, in fash- 
ioning him in His own likeness, and he begged forgive- 
ness for ever cursing the day of his birth — and again 
for pardon for the murder of little LaSaile. Then he 
thanked God for the friendship of Bishop Northern 
and the Governor and Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. Grant and 
Rose Mary, and above all the love of Helen Grant, and 
he asked humbly that a way might be shown him 


THE CONQUEROR. 


147 


whereby he could make himself worthy of her admira- 
tion and respect, if not her love, for even then he dared 
not permit himself to hope that she would ever consent 
to be the wife of a murderer and he would not have 
a prayer granted that would make her unhappy. 

“But let her love be the beacon-light to lead me to 
the end of the journey and to that place the good Bish- 
op has told me is Heaven. Grant me this prayer, 
Lord,” and with a feeling in his heart that he had never 
experienced before, that a coronated., king could not 
count for more in this world than he of Schaft fame ; 
that he was just as necessary to the world’s moving 
on as if he were a Croesus ten times over so long as 
he recognized the fact that hovering about his body 
in some mysterious manner was a soul and that that 
soul must be saved- That not only this earth must 
be affected by the redemption of such as he, but Heav- 
en itself. 

Miss Grant, returning home with the Bishop, told 
him all Schaft’s story as he had told it to the Govern- 
or, and the Bishop listened and believed. 


(21) 


148 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER XI. 

At the mansion Governor Morgan and Granard sat 
talking together the next day, discussing what perhaps 
would be the best for Granard to do and what action 
he had best take next for his own safety. Now, that 
the Governor had seen fit to take Granard’s side, he 
characteristically would leave nothing undone by 
which he could aid him. 

“I think I had better leave tonight/’ Granard said. 
“I had planned to leave in a day or so, after talking it 
over with Mrs. Grant and Miss Helen, and they are 
coming to France at once, if I need their assistance or 
influence in a reconciliation with my father. It was 
Mrs. Grant’s suggestion. They were going any way, 
she said. She has been so loyal to me — as loyal, al- 
most as Miss Helen herself. I would have gone on 
before, but Miss Helen insisted that I was not strong 
enough to take the trip. But I am quite well enough 
now and I think I had better let nothing keep me in 
the city longer, although if I obeyed the dictates of my 
heart, I would stay here always.” 

“I think you are right, Granard. Like you, my 
heart says to keep you with us, but my better judg- 
ment tells me it is best for you to go and if I can 
help you in no other way, I can see you safely out of 
the city. I promise you my protection until then.” 

“Thank you, Governor. I will need your protection 
today and tonight if I get away unmolested.” 

“You are going this evening?” 

“Yes, I must not stay another day.” 

“I think you are right in your decision now, Gran- 
ard, but I hope there will be a day when as my guest 
I will think you are wrong to be leaving. Helen will 
think so now, I haven’t a doubt, when she finds that 
you are going so soon, but even she would not insist 
on a thing that would not be best for you, although it 
might keep you in her sight. But we must let her 
know of your intentions at once. She would be of- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


149 


fended if we did not consult her in the arrangement. 
A woman doesn’t like to have her opinions ignored. I 
give you this as a pointer now. No man can learn 
it too soon.” 

“0, yes, Miss Helen must be informed. I had no 
idea of maturing my plans until she approved, and I 
am afraid yet that should our plans meet with her 
slightest opposition, I would feel inclined to remain 
even in the face of the greatest danger But I believe 
Miss Helen will look at it from our view point, espe- 
cially if Bishop Northern agrees with us, which I am 
sure he will when he comes ’round this afternoon.” 

“Yes, I am sure she will. The Bishop is coming at 
four, and that is the time Mrs. Grant and Miss Helen 
are to come back, is it not ?” 

“Yes, they were to spend this morning in the settle- 
ment and this afternoon with us, and as soon as they 
come and Miss Helen gives her consent, we’ll complete 
all my arrangements for leaving.” 

When Helen arrived, she was very submissive to 
Granard’s plans of going away that evening, without 
the Bishop having to coax her into an agreement in 
case she was obdurate. She could not but see the wis- 
dom of an early departure for Granard, although there 
was a little pain around her heart which could not be 
healed, even by the tender glances of a pair of brown 
eyes. He must not leave until night fall, but Miss 
Grant and Granard each thought they had never seen 
the sun go down so quickly — a twilight so short and 
clocks were surely out of order, for time could not pos- 
sibly fly by so rapidly. 

They made a very sad little sort of “procession” as 
they rolled down the principal streets of the city in the 
Governor’s carriage on their way to the station, the 
Bishop, Mrs. Grant, Miss Helen and Granard in the 
Grant carriage, and the Governor and his wife follow- 
ing closely behind in his own brougham. Helen was 
making a very pathetic little effort at being gay, but 
one can not often deceive with the tear drops blinding 
the eyes and a, heart almost bursting with the pain it 
carries. And it is not compulsory that every act of 
that carriage drive be chronicled. The fact that a 
certain young woman and a certain young gentleman 


150 


THE CONQUEROR. 


were holding hands in a darkened carriage, and that a 
certain Bishop and a certain fond and doting mother 
in that same carriage strongly suspected the truth of 
what was going on and that a Bishop was not at all 
shocked, is a matter of an entirely personal nature, 
but if holding hands before parting is in the least 
comforting to those whose hearts are aching, let the 
act be pardonable. 

A certain railway station was reached all too soon, 
and in profound silence, except for the roll of carriage 
wheels, and the clatter of horses feet, for no one was 
speaking. When the carriage stopped the Bishop 
alighted and went himself to procure the ticket to 
New York, while Granard remained in the carriage un- 
til the Bishop’s return, for he must not run the slight- 
est risk, as to be seen then would be disastrous perhaps 
and cause all their plans to miscarry. 

Presently the Bishop returned, an engine’s shrill 
Whistle was heard — and then, good-bye. There was 
a hand clasp for Mrs. Grant and Miss Helen, but no one 
could speak a word, but the silence was more meaning- 
ful than all the good-byes that have ever been spoken, 
perhaps. Granard lingered until the train was mov- 
ing and then he ran and swung himself upon the plat- 
form just as the train was starting out. 

“A funeral?” some one asked, meeting the Bishop’s 
carriage directly under an electric light, returning to 
the city. 

“No, that is Bishop Northern’s carriage. He has 
some friends with him. They’ve been to the station 
with a friend to say good-bye. I saw the gentleman 
leaving— must be a relative and that is why the ladies 
are weeping, and the Bishop looks so sad, I presume.” 

When the train, which was conveying Granard to 
New York, had nearly reached it’s destination, the 
conductor, a pleasant-faced, genial man of about forty 
came up to speak to him and becoming immediately 
confidential, asked him if he would like to be disguised, 
and help him play a joke on a friend. Granard, who 
was beginning to feel uneasy with a premonition of 
some evil near, was eager to grasp the opportunity. 

“Yes, I always enjoy a joke— no one enjoys one bet- 
ter than I and I’ll wear the disguise.” 


THE CONQUEROR. 


151 


“Very well, come on. I'll have to black your face 
and you are to pretend you are the porter. We will 
have to hurry The train stops this side of Pittsburg 
for water. Come into this smoker. There is no one 
here — and sit here by this boot-black’s outfit, and if a 
man comes in here, and asks you to black his boots, 
black them. Here, put these on.” 

It was a cap and coat in gray, and brass buttons, the 
uniform of the typical train porter. Granard obeyed, 
laughing, as he caught a glimpse of his black face and 
the ill-fitting coat and cap in the mirror before him. 
Presently, while he was sitting by the “boot-black out- 
fit,” some men entered the smoker, where he was seat- 
ed and looked about them cautiously. They seemed 
excited about something, but passed directly on 
through, after perceiving that the smoker was occu- 
pied by no one but the porter. 

As the train stopped in New York, the Conductor 
hurried to Granard and said in cautious whispers: 
“Get away from here as quickly as you can Schaft. 
They’re after you. Here’s a telegram and they’re hot 
on your track. A detective saw you as you got on the 
train.” 

Granard was astonished. He grasped the conduc- 
tor’s hand, trying to express his gratitude for the 
friendly act, for it was very evident that it was friend- 
ly. 

“You have not time even to say thank you. You 
said you were going to France. A ship sails in half 
an hour. It is your only chance of getting out of 
New York now and you’ll make it if you hurry. You 
remember you saved my wife and daughter from 
drowning once, when the train was wrecked crossing 

river, and I’d hate to think of the man who 

saved their lives as being in prison, if I could prevent 
it. Dick Schaft you gave me my happiness, once, 
now if there is anything in your life to be happy over, 
I give it to you in return. I knew you when you got 
on the train — you have ridden my way before, and 
when the telegram was handed me I resolved to save 
you and this disguise was the only means by which) it 
could be done, that I could conjecture on such short 
notice.” 


152 


THE CONQUEROR. 


The conductor was aware of the fact that there was 
a reward for Schaft, but he was in ignorance as to 
the exact amount, and having never heard, concluded 
that it was about five hundred dollars or somewhere 
thereat. 

“I think my wife and baby are worth that much to* 
me and I suppose we can get along without an 
extra five hundred,” he thought. 

It can not be said just what attitude the conductor 
would have taken in the situation had he known the 
exact amount offered for Schaft. He was human and 
such a sum would enable him to resign his railroad 
duties, when he could be given more opportunity to be 
with his wife and daughter at home and to nurse his 
rheumatism, which was growing on him every day, but 
suffice it to say he did not know the amount, even if 
he were human, and Granard escaped without paying 
the price, thanks to his recent kind fates and good for- 
tune. He turned and said, “God bless you,” to the 
conductor before he hurried away. How natural it 
seemed to use the phrase, and yet he had never said 
such a thing before in his life that he could recall. 

Miss Grant was at that moment at home on her 
knees praying for the safety of one Richard Granard. 
A strange foreboding had been hovering over her lest 
some danger befall him, but when she arose from her 
knees, the burden was lifted and she went about her 
duties for the rest of the day with a light-heartedness 
that she had not known since Granard had gone away. 
Granard did not feel undignified in the capacity of 
negro. He had always felt a deep sympathy and re- 
spect for that race, but he was glad to get the smut 
from his face and hands, for it was very uncomfort- 
able, and made him anything but presentable. He 
was glad, too, to be on board ship again and sailing to- 
ward his own native land, although each league sepa- 
rated him the farther from the place his heart really 
was and the woman he loved. He could not think the 
fates would be so unkind that they would never permit 
him to see her sweet face again, and in his mind, like 
some sweet strain of music by day and night rang the 
word that has kept so many hearts from despairing — 
hope. If she would only not despair, he would not. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


153 


If he could not go back to her, she and her mother and 
Hose Mary were coming to London soon on a visit, 
and he would surely see her then. Was not that 
enough to make him hopeful? 

On reaching London, Granard went at once to one 
of the leading hotels, where he was to stop temporar- 
ily before returning to his home in France. It had 
heen his intention to go immediately on to his father, 
but something held him a day or so longer than he had 
expected. Was it the fact that he had given Miss 
Grant his London address, and that he expected a let- 
ter from her? And the letter came — the most mys- 
terious little four-cornered paper, with the faintest, 
most delightful odor of some faint sachet, and with 
the beloved post mark — beloved? Yes — of America. 
Every inch, of America was beloved to him then — and 
oh! On opening that letter, the delightful news that 
Miss Helen, her mother and Rose Mary were to sail 
the next week for Europe, for Mrs. Grant was not at 
all satisfied that Mr. Granard had no one to express 
their faith in him to his father, if this should be neces- 
sary, and she thought it nothing but right and his 
due that they should go. At least Helen said it was 
Mrs. Grant who was not satisfied about Mr. Granard’s 
interview with his father, but she did not add, as per- 
haps she should have, that she, too, was deeply concern- 
ed about the results. At any rate they had been plan- 
ing a trip abroad soon any way, she said, and it would 
suit them just as well then as any other time to go. 

O, glorious news. Only one more week. What had 
he done that fate should be so kind? Granard was 
sure he could not wait for that week to roll by, it would 
seem an eternity he knew, but he congratulated him- 
self on the patience he thought he was maintaining, 
although he walked restlessly through many parks and 
somewhat aimlessly about the city all day and could not 
sleep well at nights, so anxious was he for the time to 
come when he would see the face of his beloved once 
more. He was perfectly safe to go about at random 
then, as the name and face of Schaft was familiar to 
no one but America, for Richard Granard was a boy 
in France — not a man and it can easly be imagined 
that he enjoyed the liberties of citizenship. A man 


154 


THE CONQUEROR. 


does not know just how much he has to be thankful 
for in this world. A bird may be thankless for it's 
freedom until it is caged, but once it makes it’s escape* 
the “everywhere” is a luxury ignored before,. 

The day rolled ’round at last when the Grants were 
to land, and the sun was shining — another thing to 
be thankful for. Granard wanted Miss Grant to have 
her first view of his native land in the sunshine. A 
rainy day might give her a distaste for England and 
France. But the sun never seemed to shine more 
brightly and Granard’s heart was gratified. And when 
the ship arrived at last, and he saw Miss Helen’s face 
again, and held her hand in his own, his cup of happi- 
ness was filled to overflowing. Life was getting more 
pleasant and wonderful every day he lived. 

“Have you seen your father yet?” were almost the 
first words Helen spoke, even before she asked how 
he felt. 

“No,” Granard answered frankly. “I could not face 
my father’s displeasure alone and am trusting to you 
to win him over, for if you can’t, I’m afraid no one 
can. You have a wonderful power in influencing 
people, and I am sure when my father looks into your 
face and hears what you have to say in my behalf, he 
will be no longer angry. It must soften a statue — 
your voice. Father is still living, I learn and I am 
wild to see him once' more, but as soon as your letter 
came, saying that you had decided to come right on, I 
concluded at once that it would be best for me to wait. 
It was nice of you to say in your letter that you missed 
me.” 

“I did miss you, of course, but we are not 'following’ 
you — we were coming any way,” Helen said with a 
saucy little shake of her head and a mischievous little 
twinkle in her eye. And then she laughed. It was the 
first time Mrs. Grant or Granard had heard her laugh 
naturally in quite awhile, but now in the exuberance 
of her spirits, her happy nature had returned. 

“Yes, we are following you, Mr. Granard,” Mrs. 
Grant said, “for as soon as you left I saw how it was 
going with Helen. She was beginning to mope, and 
I knew a trip was the only panacea — I knew, too 
that if we went the other way, there would be no 


THE CONQUEROR. 


155 


panacea at all. Any way, I knew she would have re- 
belled at the suggestion of a trip in the opposite di- 
rection, and so all things considered, I thought it best 
this time just to come right on and be done with it — 
especially as we were planning to come any way.” 

Here Rose Mary's small voice piped in, “I hope you 
have something nice to eat in this country. Sister 
hasn't been eating her meals for days. Let me see — 
not since you went away Mr. Richard. She said she 
didn't have any appetite.” 

A. moment of astonishment followed. The color 
went to Helen's face and she nudged Rose Mary to 
silence. She did'nt want Mr. Granard to think she 
was crazy about him, but no one could refrain from 
laughing, Helen included despite the fact that she was 
somewhat embarrassed. That Rose Mary had given 
the true key to the situation, in her childish, innocent 
way, there was no disputing. And it pleased 
Granard more than anything, for it gave him room no 
longer for any doubts, had he any still. If a girl re- 
fuses to eat her favorite chocolates and pastries, you 
may be sure she is in love — deeply and it was as Rose 
Mary had said, Helen had eaten practically nothing 
since Granard left, although Hannah, the cook, had 
tried to tempt her appetite in every way, boldly going 
against Mrs. Grant's orders “not to spoil the children.” 

“I'll have to confess that mother and Rose Mary are 
right,” Helen admitted blushingly. “I did lose my 
appetite and while I have always rather condemned 
Evangeline in my heart for chasing Gabriel all over 
the continent, here I am chasing a man over the waters 
and making myself all sea sick for him, too. If 
Evangeline had wanted a chance to prove her real 
devotion to Gabriel, she should have made herself sea 
sick. But I'll be reconciled to the trip across, if I 
can be of any assistance to you in getting your fath- 
er's forgiveness,” she added seriously, her voice grown 
very much graver. 

“Then let us go to Paris at once and see father.” 

“Yes, let us go at once. I know just how eager 
you are to see him, even if he should be angry, for I 
know you long for one more glimpse of his face, even 
( 22 ) 


156 


THE CONQUEROR. 


if he should dismiss you from his presence, and it 
should be the last one.” 

And so they journeyed on to Paris, and after half a 
day's resting at a hotel and a change of toilettes, 
Granard called for them at the hour they had decided 
on to go to his father’s home, and in a few moments 
the carriage stopped before a mansion, the grandeur 
of which it would be difficult to describe in detail. 
The house and grounds were surpassingly beautiful 
with fountains and statuary and foliage and rare flow- 
ers, and the house itself, castle-like in appearance was 
a model in architecture and beauty. Yes, it was 
Granard’s home, and as a uniformed servant met them 
at the door and ushered them in, Helen could never 
forget her first impression on entering. Here was 
“The Palace Beautiful,” she had read of in the fairy 
tales that fascinated her so when a child. Everything 
spoke not only of comfort and luxury, but of vast 
wealth and riches. The tapestries on the walls, the 
marble statuary, the oil paintings — everywhere the eye 
fell, it was on something more wonderful in its beauty 
than before and it would not have surprised one — a 
stranger— had they discovered that the chairs were 
made of gold. 

Granard had given no cards at the door. He had 
simply said to the footman, “Tell Mr. Granard some 
friends are here to see him,” and the servant had gone 
to deliver the message. He was gone only a moment 
or so, when a man, aged and feeble, but of distinguish- 
ed bearing, nevertheless, entered the room and with 
a pleasant smile of welcome on his face, said in gentle 
tones as he bowed in a courtly manner: “Bon jour, 
mon ami, — ” but as his eye fell on the face of Granard, 
he did not finish the sentence, but stopped suddenly and 
took a step forward to take a deeper look at the man’s 
face who stood before him. Then for a moment his 
eyes wandered to a picture on the wall— an oil painting 
of a lad of about sixteen, and the elder Granard looked 
at it for a moment, and then with a cry of joy, he 
turned again and grasped his son’s hand. 

“Richard,” he cried, “is it you? Say it is little 
Richard Granard come to life again, to make his fath- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


157 


er’s heart rebound with joy. Say it is Richard,” he 
pleaded. 

“Yes, father, it is I,” Granard answered, speaking’ in 
English, for his father knew that language, too, well. 

“My son, my son,” the father cried, the tears cours- 
ing down his aged cheeks and then falling over on 
Granard’s shoulder, with his arms about his son’s 
neck in a tender embrace, he wept as a woman would 
have done for the joy of seeing his long lost son again. 

It was a pathetic sight. 

“Richard, Richard, this lias been the one moment I 
have looked forward to in my old age — all these years 
since you left us, my baby boy. Why did you not 
come home, or answer my appeals in the papers beg- 
ging you to return?” 

“I did not see the papers, father. I was afraid to 
read them, for I dreaded to see an announcement of 
Worth’s death — I was so sure he was dead, and then 
I went immediately to America and could not read 
English then. And have you forgiven me, father? 0, 
father, say you have forgiven me for that wretched 
act—” 

“Of what do you speak, Richard? Did you not 
know that Worth recovered, and that he is living to- 
day ? He is married and is the father of five healthy 
children. We thought he would die for days, but a 
specialist came from London and performed a wonder- 
ful operation and he lived.” 

“0, I am not a murderer!” Richard Granard cried, 
falling on his knees at his father’s feet, his head al- 
most touching the floor. “I am a man — a citizen. 
Father tell me again that it is true, and give me your 
blessing.” 

It was a touching scene. The elder Granard laid 
his two withered hands on his son’s head, and im- 
pulsively evoked a prayer that Heaven’s choicest 
blessings hover over him for the remainder of his days. 
The father so near crazed with grief over the absence 
of his son, was not more rejoiced over his sudden re- 
turn than Granard was over the fact that he was not 
a murderer. It was like a great weight suddenly 
lifted from his shoulders, or a great shadow cleared 
away. Granard was happy at seeing his father’s 


158 


THE CONQUEROR. 


face again, but even happier to turn and look into the 
innocent eyes of the woman he loved, guiltless. He 
had not forgotten her presence for a moment — not 
even in the ecstasy of learning of his innocence. In- 
deed he remembered her more, even, because it must 
necessarily effect her happiness as well as his own — 
for now there was no reason why he should not ask her 
to be his wife. He arose from his knees and stepping 
up to Mrs. Grant and Helen, took a hand of each in one 
of his own and as he presented them to the older 
Granard, he said gently, with a low bow of deference : 
“These are my friends, father, come over to prove 
their loyalty to me. It was they who told me to come 
to you and ask your forgiveness, and they who saved 
me from a remorseless life of degradation and sin.” 

The elder Granard came eagerly forward. “And 
how am I to express my gratitude to these friends for 
what they have done in saving my boy and bringing 
him home to me ? God has indeed been kind to us in 
giving us such friends.” 

Then he related the story to them just as Granard 
hold told it, verifying it in every detail and in 
conclusion added: “Worth has grieved for you as 
much as I almost, and his brother went to London to 
find you as soon as we discovered that you were gone 
and that Worth would live and he said he thought he 
saw r you once, but when he called your name you 
turned and ran, and he was unable to overtake you. 
Since then we have tried to trace you, but could not. 
Fate has played a strange trick, but now all will be 
well, I am sure, for you have come home now to stay 
and there is no reason why you should not be as happy 
as any man.” 

“Yes, father what you say is true, and there is only 
one thing now which could keep me from being as 
happy as any man.” 

“And what is that?” the father asked, in deepest 
interest. 

“It is to prove to Miss Grant and her mother that I 
am of good birth, and that you, as my father, are 
honored and respected among your fellowmen.” 

“They have only to ask, my son, and then if they 
have doubts, let us call on the President. He recom- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


159 


mends no man without a recommendation, remember.'’ 

And if the Grants afterward had a doubt, they had 
only to ask either of lord or peasant, for the Granards 
were beloved by rich and poor alike and respected by 
every one as one of the most prominent, substantial 
and influential families in France, and with a strain 
of royal blood running in their veins. But the Grants 
gave never a moment of anxiety about the integrity of 
the Granards, nor troubled themselves to inquire about 
the possession of a family tree and coat-of-arms. 
There was unquestionably a coat-of-arms and a motto, 
for it was a good deal in evidence on silver, china, 
linen and elsewhere, but nothing spoke for the repu 
tation of the Grant family like the characters of both 
this grand old man and his son — and it was a charac- 
ter Mrs. Grant and her daughter were interested in— 
not a coat-of-arms, although the coat-of-arms was not 
at all objectionable to either. The Grant family were 
entitled to one themselves. 

It is not necessary to dwell on the details of the 
friendship which so soon developed between Mr. Gran- 
ard and his new acquaintances. That were mere 
idleness. Had any one ever known Miss Helen Grant 
and her mother and dear little sister, without falling in 
love with them, and could Mr. Granard, a sensible man, 
be the exception? He was not, for in many years he 
had not met a young woman so lovely and attractive to 
him, or a matron with a more becoming dignity and re- 
fined manner and bearing, or a daintier, more demure 
little maiden, than Rose Mary. All three, to him had 
the distinct manner of a grand duchess, each in their 
separate ways and no women of royal birth whom he 
had ever known were more to be respected than they. 
He would have them make his home theirs during their 
stay in Paris, and was almost hurt that Helen should 
raise the slightest objection- 

“0, no, we must go back to the hotel. We Ameri- 
cans are very scrupulous in our ideas about a young 
lady visiting a young man, even if it is at his father’s 
invitation.” 

“And we Parisians get offended if, when one is in 
Paris they will not do as Parisians do. . So you will 
offend us?” 


160 


THE CONQUEROR. 


“Q, Mr. Granard," Helen said laughingly, “please 
don't put it that way- — you make it so hard for us." 

“Well, we will stop worrying about it for awhile., 
at least, while we go look about the dear old place,’ 
Richard said, as he opened the door for the ladies to 
pass out, and the elder Mr. Granard and Mrs. Grant 
with Rose Mary led the way through that beau- 
tiful old romantic home, with all it’s grandeur and ar- 
tistic designings and Helen and Richard followed close- 
ly behind, Helen filled with a simple, unaffected delight 
with all the beauties the house contained. 

“It is all Richard’s now,’’ Mr. Granard was saying in 
reference to the home. “The place will soon need 
a master, for I am old now. The other sons have 
their part of the estate, and the homestead has been 
Waiting for Richard.’’ 

The little party walked on through the many inter- 
esting rooms together, but presently Richard and Hel- 
en stopped in the conservatory, where the air was 
laden with the scent of rare flowers, and in the center 
the waters of a fountain were playing — and here in the 
dim twilight, in this romantic spot, Richard Granard 
fell on his knees at the feet of the woman by his side 
and taking her hand in his and looking earnestly up 
into her face, he said: “This is the moment I have 
looked forward to eagerly since the night I met you r 
Helen — the moment I have dreamed of, prayed for. 
And now that I am not a murderer and no longer a 
gambler, I am going to ask you to be my wife. My 
identity as Schaft, the criminal will never be known, 
and we can live here as Granards the rest of our lives. 
Do you think you could forget Schaft, the crook?’’ 

“I have already forgotten. I never knew him.’’ 

“If I had never thought I was as Schaft I would have 
asked you to be my wife before this.’’ 

“Dick Schaft has never lived for me — only Richard 
Granard — my Richard. You are a man — a man with 
every right — ’’ 

“Then if you say I am a man,’’ he interrupted eager- 
ly, “and have every right, I’m going to do just what 
I’ve said I’d do ever since I knew you, if I just were a 
man with every right, and I only had the chance," and 


THE CONQUEROR. 


161 


he snatched her in his arms and held her in a close em- 
brace, and his lips sought hers and lingered. 

“Let us go now and be married,” he said at length. 
“I would say that I am perfectly happy now, if you 
only bore my name, and I could call you my wife.” 

“Then you must be made happy now, Richard. I 
must not be the one to keep you from it.” 

And so, hand in Land, like two happy-hearted chil- 
dren, they ran with the news to their mother and fath- 
er to gain their consent — and Rose Mary must not be 
overlooked. So to the little Church not far distant 
the little party of five made their way and there in 
the quiet of that peaceful sanctuary, the short, but im- 
pressive ceremony was performed. 

“Is'nt it lovely? I have not changed my initial and 
I can still use my monogram handkerchiefs,” Helen 
exclaimed laughingly, as soon as they were well out of 
the Church, or even congratulations had been said. 

“I congratulate my son on having an economical 
wife,” Mr. Granard said playfully and then he added 
in all seriousness: “And I congratulate myself in hav- 
ing a daughter-in-law who is not only economical, but 
a woman so full of good characteristics that every 
moment something new and pleasing develops. 1 
have known you only a few hours Helen, my daughter, 
but it takes only a short time to learn some people well, 
and I am not often deceived in judging a character.” 

“Mother isn't either, Father Granard. She knew 
Richard the minute she put her eyes on him.” 

“Yes, I knew him then as I believe I shall know him 
to the end. At any rate I am content to wait and 
see,” Mrs. Grant replied. 

It had been the one disappointment of Mrs. Grant's 
married life that she had had no son, but now she was 
reconciled. This was why her wish had been so long 
denied her. Granard was all her maternal heart de- 
sired. 

“And is he my really true brother? Truly?” Rose 
Mary asked in wide-eyed wonder — evidently much de- 
lighted at the prospect of such a possession. 

Granard lifted her tenderly in his arms and placed 
her in the carriage. It was his first brotherly act for 
a little sister, and only the beginning of the offer of a 


162 


THE CONQUEROR. 


protecting hand that was so welcome to her, a father- 
less girl in years to come. She sat on his knee in 
the carriage all the way on their return home, and 
reached up and kissed his mouth with more liberty than 
even the bride herself would have done — for he was 
her brother then. 

And so they were married — the Angel and Dick 
Schaft and thereby many happy moments were fore- 
told. A week in France is, at its best a pleasure, but 
to a happy-hearted bride it means much more. It 
did to Mrs. Richard Granard the fifth, but a week was 
all the time she could be induced to remain, as pleasant 
as it all had been and as fond as she had grown of the 
elder Granard, and as bad as she hated the thought of 
so early a separation. But she could come again soon. 
The secret of it all was a letter from Kate and Helen 
must go to her immediately. 

“My dear, dear Helen,” the letter read. “I’m so 
glad you’ve gone abroad as much as I miss you, for it 
has given me an opportunity of writing you a letter 
at last — something I’ve wanted to do for ever and ever 
so long, for I have wanted to tell you something and 
yet I could never put it into words, and it seems so 
easy writing it. It is the influence you have had 
over my life. Helen, I am really good now. Did 
you know it? Yes, I am, but it is because you are 
good. I am sure if you had been bad, I would, so you 
see, my dear, what a little influence in this great big 
world amounts to. Do you know I have quit dancing 
and cards, and Helen — I am going to marry Larry 
Mays.” 

Helen was reading the letter aloud to Richard. 
“Larry Mays is the Episcopal rector,” she stopped to 
explain to her husband, and then proceeded: “That 
is I’m going to marry him if you approve. That is 
not our faith, you know — the Episcopal belief. And 
do you think that it would be terrible for me to change 
my faith, and do you think it would be so terrible for 
me, who have been so very, very naughty to marry an 
Episcopal rector? Do you suppose I would bring him 
down? But I hope you will approve, Helen, in spite 
of all this. And if you do I shall have to get out my 
prayer-books and learn to cross myself. I hope I 


THE CONQUEROR. 


163 


shall not get it backwards. And Helen, if you 
think it is alright, we want to be married next week, 
but I can’t possibly marry unless you are here. The 
marriage would not seem legal to me somehow, even 
if the ceremony were performed under a cross. So 
come back at once now, won't you — that is, if you ap- 
prove." 

“And now I must kiss you good-night. It is time 
for Larry to be here. My love to Mrs. Grant, darling 
little Rose Mary and your precious self. 

“P. S. — I do hope you will approve." 

“KATE." 

Helen read the letter again, touched at all this pour- 
ing out of the heart over her, and a little mystified as 
to the meaning of the words “bring him down." She 
supposed that Kate must mean that association with 
her would make Larry bad, but laughed at Kate's lack 
of faith in herself more than in her religion. Kate 
did not know that she and Richard were married, and 
to tell the truth, this was another cause for Helen's 
eagerness to return home. She wanted to tell Kate the 
news herself, and have her laugh over her and cry over 
her for joy, as Helen well knew -she would do. Kate 
would not disapprove of her wedding she knew, for she 
had been “fond of Mr. Granard from the first and 
liked him better than any friend she had ever had," — 
and naughty girl! had whispered in Helen’s ear once, 
not many days after meeting Granard, that she hoped 
they would get married some day. And now her 
wish had come true, for “some day" had already come 
and gone. That Helen “approved" of the union of the 
“wicked" Kate and the rector, was made manifest by 
the eagerness she displayed in wishing to return to 
America, so that she might say “yes" — and then tell 
Kate how happy she was, too. 

It had been agreed that they should spend part of the 
time in America and part in France at Granard’s home 
and that they would come and go at their pleasure, an 
arrangement which was approved of even by Rose 
Mary, for she liked France and father Granard and 
the ponies in the stables and at the same time was true 
to America. Richard thought that possibly it might 
be best to remain in France and not return to America, 
( 23 ) 


164 


THE CONQUEROR. 


for he would never be mistaken for Schaft again and 
in America such an error might cause her, his wife 
some embarrassment, but Mrs. Grant and her daughter 
both thought there would be no further cause for fears 
of such a mistake and that they would be perfectly safe 
then in returning home and so Richard, indifferent to 
any one's wishes but Helen's, was willing enough to 
try the experiment, for it mattered not to him in what 
country he was, so long as he was where he could 
hold the hand of his bride in his. That was home to 
him. 

Mrs. Grant and Rose Mary were to return a 
few days earlier than Helen and Richard, however, in 
order that Mrs. Grant might have things in readiness 
for their arrival home, but she was given strict or- 
ders from Helen not to announce their marriage to 
their friends, for they wanted to surprise them with 
the news themselves on their homecoming. 

When they reached the station of her native city, 
Helen suggested that they walk home together, for it 
was such a mild, beautiful day, although it was win- 
ter, and the distance was comparatively short and 
Helen thought she would enjoy the walk home in the 
sunshine. They had nearly reached her home when 
her attention was attracted by two men on the street 
corner looking at them intently and engaged in a low 
conversation. 

“There is our man," one of them was saying, al- 
though Helen and Richard did not catch the words, 
“And this time he shall not escape us. , Miss Grant 
will have to bear the consequences. Of course, she 
does not know he is Schaft, the crook. He is even 
audacious enough to impose his society on her — the 
ruffian !" 

By this time Helen and Richard were directly in 
front of them and Wilkes stepped forward and stop- 
ping Granard, laid his hand on his shoulder and said 
with an ugly smile on his face: “Schaft! consider 
yourself under arrest. Now don't deny it." 

Both Richard and Helen turned white, but Helen 
took a step forward and looking up defiantly into 
Wilkes's face, said, without a quaver in her voice and 
with a certain pride in her tones: “This is my hus- 


THE CONQUEROR. 


165 


band, Mr. Granard, sir. What do you mean by this ?” 

“Your husband?” he gasped. “A thousand par- 
dons Mr. and Mrs. Granard. This is a great mis- 
take. We have been thinking all the time he was 
Schaft, the criminal.” 

“Yes, Mr. Granard has been taken for Schaft sev- 
eral times, he tells me,” she answered, with a forced 
laugh. “He has seen Schaft himself and says they 
are remarkably alike. But you will be wise to say 
nothing about this, or it may cause you some trou- 
ble.” 

The threat was unnecessary. Wilkes had too much 
pride in liis work to ever hint at a defeat. Helen and 
Richard passed on, leaving the astonished Wilkes and 
his friend alone on the street corner. 

“Well, I’ll be d . Haven’t we been asses? Chas- 

ing Miss Helen Grant’s husband around the country 
for Schaft, the crook. This is a joke.” 

Helen and Richard walked home in silence, he almost 
staggering from the blow of the mortification for her. 
Of what was she thinking? Why did she not speak? 
She was thinking of how she regretted a ceremony 
in a little church in Paris, and of how when she reach- 
ed home she would dismiss him, now that she, too, had 
tasted the humiliation of being mortified. He was 
sure these were her thoughts and he was almost wild 
with fears. 

The front door of the old home stood open wide to 
welcome them, but they had come a train earlier than 
was expected, and no one was down stairs to greet 
them. Helen went into the front parlor and in a 
dazed sort of way Granard followed. How dear the 
room was to him. A thousand memories of the happy 
past filled his mind. He dropped lifelessly into a 
chair and burying his head in his hands, groaned heav- 
ily. He dared not look up to see the anger on her face 
— to hear a voice always so gentle, bid him harshly, go. 
It was a moment of agony to him, but he was not well 
seated in his chair before Helen sprang to him and 
lifting his head with her hands, threw herself in his 
arms and passionately flung her own arms around his 
neck, clinging to him while she covered his face with 
kisses. They rained on his lips, eyes, hair, forehead 


166 


THE CONQUEROR. 


and as she felt the burning dame of mortification on 
his cheeks, she pressed her own cool one lovingly on 
his as she said in the voice of an angel, “My poor, poor 
Richard. Will they never tire of haunting you?'' 

His, face turned to hers was shining with a glorious 
light, and he answered earnestly: “What do I care, 
so long as you believe in me? They may kill me if 
they will just let me die looking in your dear eyes. 
But beloved/' in a husky whisper, “I care not for my- 
self, but you — you. They will take me to prison and 
the mortification of your being a prisoner's wife will 
kill you, you priceless, spotless girl. Oh, there is no 
justice, no equity in what I have done in asking you 
to marry me, and in making you my wife and bearing 
my name for life. Will you have me release you from 
the promise now, before it is too late, for no one 
knows but ourselves, and the world need never know. 
I — will — if — it — is — your — wish." The words were 
scarcely audible. 

“You see," he continued, “what the mortification is. 
I am sorry I have made you taste it, but I wifi release 
you from your promise. The law will give you back 
your maiden name and you can be as you were and if 
you don't consider yourself free then, I could kill my- 
self. It will be of no consequence — my death and I 
would gladly die if your happiness could be secured 
by it." 

But Helen only laughed as she said assuringly: 
“There is no more danger. The Governor will pro- 
tect you now." 

“No, I am afraid the Governor will be powerless now 
to assist us." 

“Don't be afraid. There will be no danger, but if 
there is and you should go to prison, I'll do something 
very bad and go, too. If they take you, they will take 
me — and I will not be ashamed. Not all the walls of 
all the prisons in the world could separate you from 
me now. I'd tear them down with my own hands to 
stand by your side and proclaim to the world that you 
are my husband and worthy of the love of any woman. 
Now do you see that I love you? And I will not re- 
lease you from your wedding vows, so think no more 
of divorces or suicides. I don't believe in either. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


167 


Don’t think Fm going to let you off now or give you 
up that easy,” laughingly. “I had too hard a time 
getting you, and I didn’t cross the waters and follow 
you all that distance for nothing. Why did you think 
I would be willing to release you from the wedding 
vows?” she asked, by this time becoming more se- 
rious. 

“When you didn’t speak after we left Wilkes, I 
thought you, too condemned me and that you were 
planning in your mind my dismissal.” 

Helen laughed again. “Come,” she said. “Let us 
find mother and Rose Mary, and then we will go to 
the kitchen and see what provisions the pantry holds. 
We have to be practical, you know, for even lovers 
have to eat, and mother says she’s going to turn all 
this over to us now.” 

Here Rose Mary came bounding down the stairs, for 
she thought she heard voices and suspected that it was 
they. Her cry of childish delight that it was sister 
Helen and brother Richard, brought Mrs. Grant who, 
if all arrangements were not quite complete for the 
homecoming, was just as happy over their arrival as it 
was possible to be. Everything had been beautifully 
planned for them, and only a few small details were 
left to be completed, which Richard and Helen did 
themselves with the enthusiasm of two happy-heart- 
ed children. 

As soon as Kate heard they were at home and mar- 
ried, she hurried around to bestow congratulations — 
and to see if Helen “approved.” Helen did approve— 
she could not say just how heartily and that night 
Kate and Larry were quietly married, with Mr. and 
Mrs. Richard Granard, Mrs. Grant and the two imme- 
diate families of the bride and groom as witnesses. 
Kate had everything in readiness, in the event that 
Helen could see no wrong in the atrocious act of Kath 
erine Fielding marrying a rector, but if the truth must 
be known, she had about made up her mind, at last, 
to be married, whatever Helen’s opinion on the subject 
might be, for her rector himself had not only succeed- 
ed in having her put her name on his church roll, but 
in convincing her that there could be no harm in the 
sweetest, best woman in the world marrying even an 


THE CONQUEROR. 


168 

archangel, could such a thing as marrying an arch- 
angel be possible. The argument was very convinc- 
ing — any discussion is to a woman in the, arms of the* 
man she loves, with her head on his breast even if it 
is the head of a former society girl and an Episcopal 
rector's breast. And so, though it might seem more 
fitting that Kate should be the wife of Granard and 
Helen the wife of Mays, the little god Cupid had evi- 
dently met the suggestion of such an union with a 
disapproving nod and for some reason, known only to> 
his wise little head, had mated them as he knew best. 
He doubtless thought the “taming of Katherine,'" 
would be some recreation for the rector from his min- 
isterial duties, and that Mrs. Granard could never die 
of ennui so long as she kept herself busy keeping her 
husband away from temptation and thereby with other 
diversions to occupy the mind, they would never grow 
tired of loving each other. 

But it did not take as much of the rector's time 
“taming Kathrine," or many moments from Helen, 
keeping Granard out of temptation as Cupid had figur- 
ed on, for Kate made the soberest, most demure little 
minister's wife a parish could ever wish for, always 
looking out for opportunities to do good and she fell 
into her duties so naturally that she wondered how she 
could ever have been so undignified as to two-step, 
or so very idle as to play a card. It all looked very 
idle indeed to her then. And if Cupid had known that 
Granard was made a steward in the church-well, he 
would not have been so terribly surprised, b.eipg the 
husband of the former Miss Helen Grant. , No one 
could live with her long without feeling the influence 
of her wonderful nature, no matter how wicked they 
might choose to be. The most complete, supreme ipo- 
ment of her life was when she saw her husbapd . or- 
dained steward, as she realized that she had,, in a 
measure, been the cause of this reformation in the 
nature of this big-hearted man her husband, and that 
had she never seen him, how different things would 
have been, even though fate were more to blame than 
his own heart or mind. 

Only one more great ambition remained then to be 
filled — the erection of the Girls' Home, on which her 


THE CONQUEROR. 


169 


"Heart had long been set. That the money had been 
procured by subscription and the foundation was to 
begin in a very few days as a result of her years of 
labor, made her heart rejoice, until the news reached 
her that the wealthy old gentleman who had contrib- 
uted the largest donation had withdrawn his gift to the 
home, having been offended at some uncharitable re- 
marks made of him by people who were so idle that 
they had nothing else to do. Helen's heart was brok 
en. The Girls' Home must fail then. It was to 
have been a home for homeless girls — girls who were 
unable to support themselves and who, for lack of shel- 
ter, were often made wretched and miserable. But 
hopes had fled now for “the Girls' Home," until Richard 
returned from down town. He suspected that some- 
thing was wrong with her from the moment he entered 
the room. It was impossible for her to ever hide it 
from him that she was troubled, for he seemed to have 
a way of detecting something wrong in the atmosphere 
and he would always have it from her before he would 
He content, for he could never bear to see her worry 
or be troubled over the slightest thing. 

“It's the Girls' Home,” she confessed, as soon as he 
put his hands on both her shoulders and looked her 
straight in the eye. “Mr. Carlton has withdrawn his 
donation, and that was the main sum we were depend- 
ing on as you know. O, I have failed so wretched- 
ly." 

“But you must have your Girls’ Home, Helen, and 
you have not failed at all. If check books are not 
made for Girls' Homes, what are they for, pray? I 
have money lying idle in the bank now, just waiting for 
a Girls' Home, and before you shall be disappointed, 
or worry your dear head over it, the money shall go. 
I thought I saw a grey hair in your head the other 
day, and we don't want Girls' Homes to be the cause 
of another making it's appearance. I think I was 
mistaken though — at least I hope I was. Now get 
the check book, dear.” 

“0, Richard, you, darling. How generous of you. 
I am so much obliged," she said, kissing him fondly, 
“but — I know I haven't any grey hairs in my head. 
I'm not old enough yet for grey hairs, you know, I'm 


no 


THE CONQUEROR. 


not, and you must never intimate such a thing to me 
again until you are sure, Richard. It will be time 
enough when they really come, and it makes the cold 
creeps run down my back to be talking of grey hairs, 
especially as you and I have agreed so positively not 
to have any or ever grow old.” 

“Well, dear, I’ll take it back and say it was an opti- 
cal illusion, due to my eye sight, which is rapidly fail- 
ing. I suppose I shall have to put on glasses.” 

“Now, there you go again — getting old.” 

“0, no. I should have said astygmatism. Even 
infants have that.” 

“Astygmatism then — not failing eye sight. You'll 
have us in our dotage before our wooden wedding. 
But IT1 forgive you for intimating that we are to be 
old some day, for this generous gift of yours to the 
Girls’ Home. And now you and I will have a monu- 
ment when we are gone and it can never be said of us 
that Mr. and Mrs. Richard Granard lived in vain. 
Isn’t the thought that the world may be made a little 
better by our having lived in it inspiring to you, Rich- 
ard ?” 

“As inspiring as you yourself, for you know that 
without your help I would never have made the world 
any better by my life, and without you it could have 
been no worse than it was, God”knows.” 

“And you are glad you chose the better way? It 
is a foolish question, isn’t it ?” 

“Glad? I could not tell you in all the remainder of 
my life how glad I am, or how wretched and unsatis- 
factory my life was until I began to see as you see. 
Such a life as mine were mere existing — breathing, 
eating and sleeping and that is not what we were crea- 
ted for. We breathe, eat and sleep to give life to the 
body that the soul may be able to live. That is all, as 
I see it.” 

“Any intelligent person will agree with you — a dis- 
agreement would mark a man insane,” Helen agreed, 
looking up admiringly into her husband’s face and 
feeling the greatest pride in him as she knew he had 
found the key-note to living. This was not the first 
gift to charity she had known of her husband making, 
for on her return from France, on making her first 


THE CONQUEROR. 


171 


visit to the settlement, she learned that Granard’s real 
reason for being in the settlement was that he, too, 
was contributing to the comforts of the stricken peo- 
ple by giving them money on that eventful afternoon, 
when he looked up and discovered the detective on his 
track. 


172 


THE CONQUEROR. 


CHAPTER XII. 

It was by chance that Richard Granard learned of the 
whereabouts of Jacques. He was on a ranch in Texas 
when, after many years imprisonment in the West, 
finally he had proven himself innocent of the crime he 
had been accused of and on his release he had gone 
West, and here found the little woman who made the 
discovery that Jacques did have a heart, and that it 
was beating in exactly the right place, after all. And 
if he had grieved over the cruel separation of his pro- 
tege, Lord Granard, his heart was made glad at last by 
the arrival in his home of a bouncing baby boy. And 
never was father fonder of a child, or never a husband 
more tender or devoted. The passion for gambling 
in that giant frame had been quelled by the clasp of a 
very small woman’s hand and a restless, roving nature 
had at last been quieted by the presence of a fond and 
loving wife. 

Jacques did not own the ranch — he had lost all the 
money he had ever made gambling, for like Granard 
he would win one moment and lose it all the next. He 
had never varied from the agreement made with Gran- 
ard that they should never gamble with a man with 
an encumbrance. All their winnings were from men 
who had plenty to spare, and who generally were dis- 
appointed in life any way and were recklessly turning 
to gambling as a means of diversion. And often it 
was a favor to make them poor, for it was their money 
that was driving them to ruin. It takes poverty to 
make men of some men. But the money Jacques made 
did him no good, for it was the same old story with 
him, that no gambler ever earned a fortune but it was 
swept from him, sooner or later. 

And so Jacques was poor, but he was as happy as 
overseer of the ranch as the owner himself probably, 
for if “the wife” was satisfied with their earnings, why 
should he not be? They were gotten honestly, and 
that was enough. 


THE CONQUEROR. 


173 


Granard wrote Jacques and a letter came in return, 
post haste. They told each other of their lives and a 
regular correspondence ensued. 

“I am not a very good Christian, I am afraid,” 
Jacques wrote, “but the wife is good enough for both of 
us,” but a few years later Jacques wrote again that to 
please his wife he had joined the church, and that he 
was sure he would never have cause to regret it. “I 
don’t know what the church may do,” he added, “espe- 
cially if it should be known that I have served a term 
in prison, but I joined at their invitation and I can 
prove that I was innocent of the crime I was accused 
of — and any way, if there’s any objections, if it’s not 
easy enough to get out, it’s easy enough to be put out. 
But my wife thinks I will never be put out, and I have 
discovered since we have been living together, that 
she has a right wise little head on her pretty shoulders 
— wiser very often than this big head of mine.” 

A letter from Granard one day evoked the following 
ejaculation from Jacques: “Lord! Think of Richard 
Granard being the father of a little Richard Granard.” 

“You see I could not bear the idea of you getting 
ahead of me, Jacques,” he wrote, “and I have only one 
objection to his being a boy. I could not name him 
Helen, but Helen says if he had been a girl she would 
have objected because she could not name him Richard 
and his name is Richard Granard the VI. Helen has 
mentioned his name for President of the United States 
some day, but whether he is President or not concerns 
me little. Only that he lives to be a good, useful man 
is all that is of consequence — you and I have learned 
this, haven’t we, Jacques, old friend. And Helen 
knows, too, God bless her.” 

Young Richard may never have been the President 
of these United States, but he lived to be the son of a 
Governor, for a state must recognize a brain, even if it 
was once thought to belong to Dick Schaft. It was 
after Governor Morgan’s reign and he and Bishop 
Northern managed his campaign, each, believing that if 
a man ever lived capacitated to measure out justice, it 
was Granard, for he had suffered. 

It was through Jacques that Granard learned of the 
fate of the real Schaft. On the night of the murder, 


174 


THE CONQUEROR. 


when Granard had been mistaken for him, Schaft 
was making his way out of the city, and in attempting 
to cross a swollen stream, he was drowned. The body 
stayed under water for some weeks and when it was 
finally recovered, was decomposed beyond all recogni- 
tion, so that only a comrade who had been with him 
on this fateful evening knew that it was he. The 
comrade, who knew Jacques, saw him later and told 
him of the affair, but Jacques was the only one he ev- 
er told of it. And people have wondered to this day 
where Dick Schaft has gone and what has become of 
him. 

And so it developed that the Schaft Granard was 
thought to be, was just a plain man with a heart in him 
after all, at which all humanity had been frightened. 

“And they lived happily ever afterward,” is the 
way most stories end, which is a very fitting ending to 
this narrative, for what more remained to make them 
so? Richard Granard had regained his manhood and 
conquered his greatest enemy — mankind and thereby 
he was conqueror. 


































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